


'Til Kingdom Come

by kaientai



Category: Haikyuu!!, Tokyo Ghoul
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Alternate Universe - Tokyo Ghoul, Blood and Gore, Chapters 1-5 are self-proofread !, F/M, plot heavy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-21
Updated: 2019-02-05
Packaged: 2019-02-15 12:35:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 31,400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13031265
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaientai/pseuds/kaientai
Summary: "You must like me a lot if you're not killing me yet."He grins, and it's terribly akin to the smile he showcased the day you transferred to Nekoma all those years ago. Suddenly, you feel eighteen again, but when the pulsing flesh of his bikaku curls itself around your waist, you remember just what kind of monster that feline smile hid underneath."That's just it. You're only alive because I like you."





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Mildly inspired by user DestinyWatch's multi-chapter fic, "Le besoin de". (If you're reading this, thanks a mil for unknowingly planting the idea in my head) I was creeping through the kuroo/reader tag when I suddenly got reminded that Tokyo Ghoul and Haikyuu can overlap in a certain location (Tokyo, obviously). Of course, being the absolute garbage I am for Kuroo, he's the star of this story too.
> 
> For a quick run-through: you're the kid of a schizophrenic ccg officer and your soulmate is a ghoul; meaning, you get to taste _everything_ that he tastes. (If you haven't read my other, more light-hearted oneshot, [taste test](http://archiveofourown.org/works/12776751), yet, here's the [post](http://defensedevils.tumblr.com/post/161929731837/soulmate-au-where) this au was inspired by!)

"Ka-san, what do people taste like?"

The question catches your mother off-guard. Eyes wide and hands trembling at the slightest, she almost drops her knitting needles. Her reaction doesn't come off as a total surprise to you. Ghouls have been running amok in Tokyo for as long as anyone can remember, and the mere mention of consuming human beings does not quite ease the mental acuity of most of its residents. However, you are not part of that particular population that cowers at the notion of ghouls breaking your skin with very human teeth to chomp off a portion of your flesh with very inhuman strength. You're curious, even. Where did they come from? Why do they only eat humans? Why do they only hunt at night? Are they the real vampires? You wish to shoot away at your mother with that barrage of inquiries in mind, but the budding tension on her face makes you think twice.

However, instead of dismissing your curiosities just like your father always does, she answers. "Well, I haven't tasted for myself, but I heard that people taste a lot like soy."

You crane your head. "Soy?"

Your mother chuckles and her shoulders relax. The scarf she was crafting with interrupted expertise and the needles she used are placed on the table in front of you. "Tofu is made of soy. People taste like soy. In a way, people taste just like tofu."

"Wow," you mutter as your eyes drift to the soft skin of your arm. So if you bite yourself, it'll be just like biting off a chunk of tofu? Suddenly, you understand why the ghouls are so hell-bent with consuming humans. Tofu is amazing!

"Now don't go thinking that you can just eat yourself, sweetie," your mother chides, as if she read your thoughts. "Ghouls eating humans is one thing, but humans eating other humans is cannibalism. That is taboo of the highest form."

You shoot her a confused stare. "Taboo? What's that?"

"It's something that you shouldn't do."

"Is feeding Yuki some chocolate taboo?"

She holds in a fit of laughter. "Not exactly. Taboo is something more severe than feeding the dog chocolate."

You place a finger on your chin. "Hmm... If humans eating humans is taboo, is ghouls eating humans taboo, too, ka-san?"

Something incomprehensible shadows her face, but you're far too oblivious to notice. You're too young, and your mother is intent with preserving that innocence of yours for as long as she's capable. But your curiosity is something that you have inherited from her and now she cannot stop the fountain of your eagerness to learn from overflowing. She knows very well how too much curiosity can be one's own demise. But, still, you're not of age yet. You wouldn't understand.

She smiles. "You'll know when you're older."

 

* * *

 

Seven years later, a ghoul takes your mother's life.

You don't bother with the details. Once you catch a glimpse of the crisp white cloth covering her body in the Tokyo General Hospital's morgue, all reason flees your mind until all that's left is an empty husk—a little girl who lost her mother to those demons in human clothing. Her skin is stiff and lacks the warmth of motherly love when your fingers drag across the flaking surface. The autopsy technician forbade you from peeking under the sheet that covers her torso and lower half. It's a sight that a sixteen year-old won't be able to handle, she said. But at this point, you can't bring yourself to care if she died from a car crash or died because a ghoul murdered her. Your mother, the person who breathed life into you and raised you with all the good intentions her heart could give, is dead. Hot tears race down your cheeks, but you will yourself not to be reduced into a sobbing mess. You're an ugly crier, and she wouldn't have wanted to see you so distraught.

Your father is standing idly only a few feet behind you, rooted to the spot. You watch as his fingers curl into tight fists. His face reddens with a familiar rage. Though you only saw your father as someone who provided for you and was never fit to be called a father in the first place, you know from the bottom of your heart that he is (was) an excellent husband. You do the math. When a ghoul murders the wife of a ghoul investigator with precarious temper, nothing but a thirst for vengeance will bloom from the seeds of his loss. 

For the first time in good while, you feel compelled to talk to him. He's hurting just as much as you are, though your feelings are less volatile. But before you can even find your voice, he turns on his heel and storms out of the morgue with an ominous exit. Your heart aches at the sound of the double doors clicking back in place and you're convinced that the hollowness in your chest isn't just from losing one of your parents—it's from losing both.

 

* * *

 

"Any updates?" 

You didn't mean to eavesdrop, really You were just passing by your father's room (his private sanctuary, he liked to call it) to bid him a goodbye, out of requirement more than will. It's your first day on your third year in high school. You're attending Nekoma High this year and you tried to see whether or not your father cared enough about you to see you off. Turns out, he's nose-deep in his work, still, and somehow you're already used to it. However you overheard him talking to someone—presumably one of his colleagues since they're the only people he ever interacts with—on the phone. The door is shut, though you can still hear your father's raspy voice loud and clear.

"I don't care about Arima's latest kill," comes his exasperated tone. "I was talking about Panther... No news, nothing? Some information broker you are, alright."

Your ears perk up at the mention of the name. Panther. It's something that you didn't quite pay attention to at the height of your grief. But it's been two years since your mother's passing, and strangely, you found it in your heart to forgive whoever is behind the alias of Panther. Though you feel as if you shouldn't, you gave him the benefit-of-the-doubt. Assuming that he didn't kill your mother out of cold blood or revenge against your father, he didn't deserve unending hatred from someone who barely knew him. He was simply following what his nature required of him. Your mother was probably just in the wrong place at the wrong time. 

Guilt bubbles in the pit of your stomach. You shouldn't blame your mother for this... But you can't bring yourself to make blind accusations against Panther either, even if he _is_ a ghoul. However, before you can put more thought into the matter, your wristwatch goes off. When you check the time, it's already 7 o'clock and—holy shit you're _late_! You sprint down the hall and out of your house, pushing those unnecessary thoughts out of your mind. 

Inside your father's study, the phone call he's having is yet to come to an end. Unlike a few minutes ago, he's no longer criticizing the skill of one of the CCG's most trusted brokers. Turns out, he _does_ have news.

"Listen carefully. That ghoul you've spent the past two years trying to find is just a boy," the broker chuckles, mocking the investigator's incompetence. "I don't blame you. Children blend in more easily with us humans. Two years ago, that boy was only at the fruitful age of sixteen, can you believe that? A kid that's just as old as your daughter was the one who killed your wife?"

His grinds his teeth. "Where is he?"

"That, my friend, is confidential. I know too well how you feel about this case, but remember that we are not allowed to harm minor ghouls. Even if they are monsters, they're still children. Have some integrity."

"Don't make me repeat myself."

The broker sighs. "Fine, but if your psychotic ass gets fired, I've got nothing to do with it, alright?"

"Just tell me where he is!" he snarls.

"Say, your kid's attending Nekoma this year, right?"

"What does that have to do with anyth—"

"He's there. The Panther you've been so obsessed with? He starts his third year at Nekoma today."

 

* * *

 

In the middle of an unfamiliar hallway, you contemplate whether or not you should go inside the classroom labeled '3rd Year, Class 5' It could be a different Class 5 or maybe you're just too much of a wuss to face the looming embarrassment. Being late on your first day at a new school isn't very glorifying. But instead of making a decision right there, you spend a good ten minutes just pacing around, trying your best to come up with a feasible conclusion. 

"Should I tell them the truth? _Hey, sorry I'm late. I was snooping around with my dad's phone calls about his life as an investigator!_ Wait...that's no good!" you tell to no one in particular.

"Hey."

You turn your head toward the direction of the voice. Walking towards you is a fit looking boy with a bird's nest for hair. He eyes you lazily as his lethargic steps come to a halt. For a moment, the two of you stand in silence, quietly scrutinizing each other. Loose tie, rumpled uniform, no blazer, no schoolbag; he doesn't look like anyone of significance, really. He's probably that one person in class that's always asleep.

To your mild bewilderment, he holds out a hand and the grin he sports makes his eyes look even smaller. (Did this guy get a wink of sleep at all?)  "Kuroo Tetsurou. Nice to meet you."

You're not very good at making friends, but you suppose that handshakes are a good start. Eliminating the possibility of your hands being sweaty at the back of your mind, you shake his hand gingerly and introduce yourself.

He arches an eyebrow. "Hm? What a nice name. Can we be friends? I'm not very social, you see."

"If you go inside the classroom first, I will be your friend forever."

He shrugs. "Seems like a fair deal."

Clearing his throat, he knocks thrice on the door before unceremoniously sliding it open. "Good morning, fellow degenerates! I'm Kuroo and that's (Name)," he announces while jabbing a thumb at your direction. "We're very sorry we're late. Tokyo traffic is ungodly!"

To your chagrin, your homeroom teacher doesn't look like someone that would appreciate Kuroo's abrupt and uncourteous entrance. She looks young and is rather pretty, but from her draconian stare, you guess that her sense of humor is the polar opposite Kuroo's. "Late on your very first day on your very last year at Nekoma? How despicable. That's detention for the two of you."

Kuroo snorts. "Detention on the first day? Nekoma sure is up-to-date with their disciplinary methods."

The teacher, who you presume to be Kumara-sensei (her name is written rather elegantly on the blackboard), slams a wooden ruler on her desk and nearly breaks it at the force. "Will you accept detention or will you have to leave the classroom early?"

Kuroo raises his palms in defense. "So where do we sit, _sensei_?" 

She peers over to the rows of seated students and spots one vacant seat at the middle and another by the window.

"Kuroo, you will be occupying the seat next to Yaku. (Name) will be seated next to Yukihira."

"Yaku, again? Really, sensei? I've been stuck with him for two years."

"Hey, it's not like I'm very fond of you either, asshole!" a sandy-haired student in the middle yells.

"Crass language will not be tolerated in this classroom!" Kumara-sensei scolds. "Kuroo, you will be seated in the middle, where teachers may obviously observe you."

The other boy sighs. "How underwhelming. I wanted the shoujo seat this year!"

"The shoujo seat?" you echo incredulously.

Kuroo snaps his head towards you. "Y'know, the one seat in a classroom where the main protagonist always sits in shoujo manga."

"I guess I'm the protagonist, then," you joke.

He snickers. "If that's the case, then I'll be your antagonist." 

 

* * *

 

True to her word, Kumara-sensei really does lock the two of you in a half hour's worth of detention.

"Normally, detention lasts for _two_ hours," she says this as if she was being merciful. "But since it's your first day, the school director cut down your time to thirty minutes. Now, I'll be in a faculty meeting. When I come back, the two of you should still be right where you are or else you'll get a full-length detention tomorrow accompanied by community service. Am I making myself clear?" 

"Yes, senseiiii," Kuroo drawls out, sounding rather bored.

When the door shuts behind her, Kuroo immediately turns to you and says, "Man, is she annoying. I can't believe we're stuck with her as our homeroom teacher."

"She's only doing her job, Kuroo."

"A terrible job, if you ask me."

"Why do you hate her so much? Um, correct me if I'm wrong but you've been a senseless prick all day."

He snorts. "We just never got along. Simple as that."

You roll your eyes and pull out your phone. Once you connect to the school's wifi (it was password protected but your seat mate, Mika, had the courtesy to tell you what it is) you browse your bookmarked fanfiction to check if there were any updates. Alas, none of your favorite authors have taken the time to update their stories, and this just adds up to your storm of a mood. 

"What'cha got there?"

You yelp when you realize your only companion in the room is reading over your shoulder. Clutching your phone against your chest, you stutter out a reply, "N-Nothing."

"Oh, you're one of those weeaboos that are into fanfiction, huh?"

Your face reddens but you try (and fail) to make him leave you alone by being hostile. You cross your arms and turn away from him.

"You don't have to be shy. You shouldn't be ashamed of the stuff you like, you know? I have a friend who's obsessed with video games but I don't really mind. It makes him happy." He places a comforting hand on your shoulder. "If reading all that, regardless if they're smutty or not, makes you happy, as your friend forever, I support you and your penchant for gross fanfiction!"

You gape at him. "Is that supposed to make me feel better?"

He shrugs. "Well, to make things fair, I'll share something I like, too." Kuroo grabs the chair to your left and wedges his legs in the space between the desk and the chair itself. From the way he likes to squeeze himself in various spaces, it makes you think of him as a cat. 

"For starters, I like volleyball—no, I _love_ volleyball!" he announces with a sparkle in his eyes. "That friend I mentioned earlier? The one who's into video games? His name's Kenma and I've been playing with him since we were kids."

Your brow arches. "Is this Kenma attending another school?"

"Nah, he's a second year."

You contemplate for a moment. You couldn't tell at first, since Kuroo is so passive and lanky for the most part, but his height could be of use in a game of volleyball. But who are you to say? You're not very well-versed with the topic, but most players you've seen on TV are of remarkable height.  

"What about you, do you play any sports?" 

You hum. "Hmm... I used to be on my junior high's track team. But I haven't joined any sports clubs in my old high school."

"Whaaaat? You should always keep your body in shape, y'know? Plus, clubs are fun!" Kuroo pouts.

"Oi, it's not like I've neglected my usual workouts. It's just that this is high school. I'm not a very responsible person so if I join track, I might mess up my academics. That's exactly what happened back in junior high." You shudder at the memory of the drop in your Math grades. It wasn't pretty sight and your father was more or less furious when he found out.

"Well, that sucks," he sighs. "I dunno but I can balance my stuff pretty well. Can you just cheer for me at my games, as my friend forever?"

"You're part of the team?" You didn't mean to sound so incredulous but...the guy who sleeps through all his classes is part of the volleyball club?

He winks. "'Course I am."

"Huh. Never would have expected it."

"Where are you from by the way? Why transfer to a new school on your final year of high school?"

Rather taken aback with his sudden shift in topics, you fumble with your phone. Oddly, no one has asked you your reasons for transferring into Nekoma, contrary to your expectations. He's the first to ask and you're quite hesitant to answer. But since Kuroo has been nothing short of nice to you, you think it's only fair to heed to his inquiries.

"I was from Fukurodani. I, uh, transferred here 'cause my dad's job kinda requires him to move around a lot."

"Oho?" Kuroo smirks widely, suddenly interested. "Fukurodani, huh? You must be well acquainted with a certain Bokuto Koutarou, then."

You contemplate about it for a second. "Hmm. I've never been classmates with him but I heard he's a great spiker on the volleyball team. I don't know, though. Never said two words to the guy."

"But why? He's such a great person!"

"I like to keep my circle of friends to a minimum, thank you very much."

"I should feel honored, then!"

You give him a look, but decide to just go along with it. "Yes, you should."

 

* * *

 

"You like Kuroo-san, don't you?"

Nearly breaking the tip of your pencil out of surprise, you turn to Mika. "What are you talking about?"

She smiles sweetly. "Well, your eyes wander a lot and more often than not, they wander to that beautiful boy right there." She very obviously points a finger at Kuroo, who is dozing off in today's History lecture. 

You slap her hand. "Don't point! The people that might be watching might get the wrong idea!"

Mika shrugs before drawing on your notebook using her own pencil. First, she scribbles Kuroo's initials, then yours underneath them before encasing the four letters in an arrow heart. She giggles at her work as you shoot her a piercing glare. Yukihira Mika might be Class 5's brightest student, but she does occasionally find shallow things very funny. 

"Yukihira, is there anything you would like to share to the class?" The teacher in front chides.

Ever the faux angel she is, she grins and replies, "No, sensei!" before sitting back on her own chair. She bats her eyelashes at you but focuses on the lecture after that last spectacle of vexing behavior.

You sigh, fairly used to her antics now. It's been three months since the school year started and Mika has been a good (albeit, annoying) friend. Often, she's the one that would invite you for ramen or parfait after school, depending on her appetite. But strangely, every time you eat out with Mika, she never finishes whatever she orders. After a few bites, she'll whine about how bloated she already is before offering you an abundance of leftovers. Being a bulky eater yourself, you don't pay much mind to it and just eat what she gives you. Besides, you've had a persisting belief that children raised in rich families would discard their food easier than most. 

Still, it's kind of odd.

But the bigger oddity that constantly plagues your mind is the enigma that takes form in Kuroo Tetsurou. Just like your initial assumption of him during the first day of school, he does, in fact, sleep through most of his classes every time he gets. He even sleeps through breaks! Does he even eat? Why does he go to school when all he does is sleep? Moreover, how is he still passing classes even if he rarely ever listens to the lectures?

Most of the time, he rivals Mika in intellectual prowess. During the last midterm, Mika only outscored him by one point in the Japanese Lit exam. Why do you have to slave away with revising when this guy can pass with flying colors without lifting a finger? To top it all off, he's the volleyball club's captain, a detail that he left out during that fateful day in detention all those months ago. Since then, you haven't been able to talk or hang out with him a lot, given the fact that he _is_ the captain. Even if he _did_ promise to be your friend forever, it's understandable that he's got a lot on his plate, too. But, still. Kuroo Tetsurou, the lazy piece of shit, is both a star student and a star player.

Society truly is unjust.

 

* * *

 

It's the first day for finals tomorrow (well, it's 12:45 AM on the clock, so technically, it's seven hours from now), and you're yet to absorb the most crucial of details in your orated Physics textbook. You stare at the calibration of text and formulas, but the longer you hold your gaze, the more the numbers seem to dance in the seams of your vision. You blink. Nope, the printed ink is right where it should be. 

A yawn leaves your lips. Maybe you should try getting some shut-eye. Not knowing jack shit about your Physics exam but getting rejuvenated is better than being clueless and sleep-deprived at the same time. Besides, the only substance you know of that can keep you awake is coffee. You hate coffee.

But as you shut your textbook and rearrange your cluttered desk, a tang of something savory teases your tastebuds. You halt your previous actions to pull your focus on the slew of flavors on your tongue. There's a hint of beef, but the most conspicuous (and mildly bothersome) sensation is the taste of liquid iron. You place your things on the now tidy desk and head to the bathroom outside. When you check your reflection in the cracked mirror, the first thing you do is stick your tongue out. Upon further inspection, nothing seems out of ordinary, but suddenly a sensation akin to drinking caresses the inside of your mouth. However, instead of water, it's thicker and the taste alone makes you want to hurl your head into the toilet.  

A trembling hand reaches for your mouth as fear begins to paint itself on your face. You've cut your lip and had your gums bleed enough times for you to be familiar with the taste of blood. But it's strange;  _very_ strange. You're certain that this is blood but there's something incredibly vile about the taste. Is it the blood of an animal? You frantically inspect every crevice inside your mouth for any wounds you might have failed to notice, but to no avail. A few moments of unfathomable paranoia later, you start feeling as if someone put a slab of sashimi in your mouth. The raw texture against your tongue does not complement the metallic relish and the sensation makes your knees buckle. You have to catch your elbow on the toilet seat to prevent you from collapsing to the bathroom floor. 

Even with the lack of actual food in your mouth, your reflexes begin to kick in and you start to gag. The next moment that follows, you immediately retch the contents of your empty stomach. Your breath comes in pants with uneven intervals and eventually, you lose count of how many times you vomited stomach acid. But from the disgusting sting in your throat, you're convinced that it was a hell lot. When the tempest of flavors dies down, your bones feel like they've been ground to dust and your stomach is emptier than ever. 

Throwing up cost you a lot more energy than it seemed and you nearly pass out on the floor, had it not been for the sound of the front door sliding open. Suddenly alert, you switch off the light in the bathroom and strain your ears to confirm if the one who's entering your home is your father or a burglar. But when you don't hear Yuki barking about, and hear the sound of keys being haphazardly placed in a drawer in the living room, instead, you sigh in relief.

Your father paces around a little, the heavy footsteps signifying that he forgot to take off his shoes again. You try not to think about the fact that you might have to mop a muddy living room floor first thing in the morning. Whenever he gets home from jobs that took a toll on him, he'd often forget to take them off before he heads to bed, too. You wish to remind him that before entering the house, first he needs to remove his footwear, but you can't announce your presence. If he catches you still awake, a scolding would most certainly come, regardless of whether or not he's tired. 

You peek from the doorway, trying to make sense of what little movement there is in the darkness. Your father's tall figure doesn't seem to be anywhere in your line of vision, but from the hushed whispers that your ears pick up, you deduce that he's talking to your mother. With curiosity gnawing at your gut, you leave the bathroom (without flushing your...mess) to walk closer. Just as you predicted, he's sitting cross-legged in front of the framed image of your mother as he lights up a few incense sticks. Yuki is lying right next to him, as if trying to reach out to your deceased mother, as well.

The sight makes your heart clench at the slightest. Your father always goes home from work when you're already sound asleep; the only evidence of his prayers being the burnt out incense in front of your mother's portrait. You contemplate about listening to what he has to say, but you feel as if you're trespassing on something that your father holds dear. So, quietly, you turn around to head back to your own room, making sure to slide the doors without a noise. 

That night, you dream through the eyes of a monster, as he devours a very familiar face.

 

* * *

 

It's five minutes to seven and Mika is yet to occupy her seat. You tap your foot on the floor with waning patience. She never arrives at school after you do, so the fact that she's yet to come even if you've been sitting here for thirty minutes concerns you. The dream you had of her last night didn't quite help either. Why was Mika suddenly late the day after you dreamt about murdering her? But when Kumara-sensei arrives with an armful of papers for your Physics exam, you gulp. Maybe Mika, the healthiest person you know, somehow wound up sick and chose not to go to school today. With that assumption in mind, you manage to answer your test without any bothersome thoughts.

However, when first break comes, you overhear a few of your classmates talking only a few feet away. 

"What? Mika is dead?"

"Yeah. I heard from Tenka from Class 3. She's Mika-chan's neighbor. She told me that when she was heading to school this morning and passed by her house, there was a crime scene with all that yellow police tape! She saw the body with her own eyes!"

"Hah? Tenka is the school's source for gossip. For all we know Mika is just sick."

"B-But my mom knows Mika-chan's mom and she told me that it's true!"

"W-Well, we'll know by the end of the day. Murders get broadcasted on the news, right?"

"Oh, no. I hope she's alright..."

Suddenly, your grip on your metal chopsticks loosens and they clang to floor. The collision rings in your ears and one of the girls, Asuka, turns her head to your direction and asks if you're alright. You nod absentmindedly before staring at your bento. The hotdog octopus doesn't taste as good in your mouth anymore. Asuka begins to approach you but is interrupted by someone.

"Oi, you're Koizumi, right?" Kuroo walks in front of her. 

She makes a face. "We've been classmates for months now, and you're not even sure?"

He ignores her inquiry. "Sato-sensei is looking for you. He said you didn't pass last week's homework."

"What? I sure as hell passed that!" In a blink of an eye, she's already run out of the classroom.

You blink and look up at your savior. It's not that you aren't fond of Asuka, it's just that you're really not in the mood to be pestered at the moment. Kuroo looks down on you with a lopsided smile. Today, he doesn't look like he hasn't slept for a week, and the absence of bags under his eyes makes him a bit more handsome. 

"You looked like you were in a pickle over there," he states. "Thought I could help out."

"Uh, thanks," you respond as you awkwardly crouch on the floor to reach your chopsticks. When you settle back in your seat, Kuroo occupies Mika's empty one.

He strikes up a conversation. The topics he goes for aren't too ordinary or controversial, and he's definitely steering clear of talking about Mika. You severely appreciate his sensitivity. But after you talk about your pet dog, Yuki, he suddenly invites you out.

"Say, since Yukihira isn't here, do you wanna grab some coffee after school?" he asks with a hopeful glint in his eye.

Apparently, he noticed the uneasy look on your face when he says, "Oh, don't think of it as me taking advantage of her absence, 'kay? I just noticed that you always walk home with her. I was thinking that you might feel a little lonely."

"On what assumption did you base that on?" you give him a look.

He places a hand on his chest in feigned offense. "You're rather feisty, I see. But besides the fact that you never hang out with anyone else besides Yukihira, well..."

Your eyes narrow at him. You're trying your hardest not to break face because _shit_ he's actually right. Collectively, people annoy the hell out of you, so you tend to keep your circle small; only consisting of those who you're sure you can put your trust in. What's worse is that the one person that fits that standard might possibly be _dead_. Kuroo is definitely correct about you feeling a little lonely. Hell, you already felt lonely the moment you walked inside the room and Mika wasn't there to greet you her usual, "Good morning, introvert-chan!"

Kuroo's eyes are regarding you with incitement, provoking you to counter what he just said. You exhale deeply, sealing your defeat.

"Fine." 

 

* * *

 

"They're pretty cute, aren't they?" Kuroo smiles before sipping at his coffee. The mug that the café provided him has a drawing of a cat's face on it, which further amplified the place's ambience.

You pet the Siamese kitten on your lap and she mewls in satisfaction when you scratch her ears. "Well, I'm not good with cats but this place certainly is heavenly."

He winks. "Told you you'd like it."

"But, pray tell, don't you have practice today?" you ask with concern lacing your words.

"I can always ditch for my friend forever."

You slap his arm. "You didn't have to ditch practice for me, you idiot! You can get kicked off the team for that."

He waves away your worry. "They wouldn't drop their captain."

"You're rather cocky, aren't you?"

"Well, if you've _really_ got talent, you shouldn't be ashamed."

"Hold on, mister, I haven't even seen you play yet. You can't go flaunting your 'talent' in front of someone who hasn't seen for herself. Don't _tell_ me, show me."

A smirk upholds itself on his lips. "We've got a practice match against Fukurodani tomorrow. Care to watch me live up to my glory?"

Without thinking, you agree to his proposal. "Deal."

Once a few more minutes of unnecessary bickering pass, one of the waitresses comes back with a bowl of crème brûlée. 

"Order's complete, miss?" she politely asks.

You nod before settling the Siamese back onto the floor. She stretches out her limbs before sashaying away and you suddenly feel empty at being left behind so abruptly. You deserve better treatment, even from cats! But when you remember that you have a steaming bowl of custard dessert, your mouth begins to water.

You take ahold of the slightly warm spoon and glide the curved part over the burned layer. The sugar melts at the contact and when you complete the task, you take one scoop of the delectable treat into your mouth. You've had better, but the custard is definitely something else.

"Mmmmmm... This stuff is good, Kuroo. I can't believe I passed by this place for years but never really checked it out."

He chuckles. "Ignorance isn't always bliss."

You scoop a spoonful of the dessert. "Here, you want some?"

Kuroo's surprise is thinly veiled, but it disappears just as quick as it manifested. "Nah, I'm good."

"Come on," you insist. "The least I can do for making you skip practice is share my meals with you."

A nervous laugh leaves him. "Ah, it's fine, _really_."

"Are you going to eat it or am I gonna have to make you?"

"Jesus, alright, alright!"

He grabs the spoon with tension in his shoulders and it makes you wonder if he's allergic to crème brûlée and he's just too shy to tell you. The thought makes guilt pang in your chest and you're about to tell him that he doesn't have to eat if he doesn't want to. But before you can even open your mouth, he already finished off the portion you gave him. 

Upon ingestion, Kuroo immediately pales and says, "Hey, will you excuse me for a sec?"

"Sure, take your time."

Abruptly, he stands up, bumping into the table before he scurries over to the nearby restroom. You're left aghast with his sudden behavior. Maybe he _is_ allergic to crème brûlée. Oh, no. You don't have enough money to support his hospital bills!

Your panic is interrupted by the sound of Kuroo's phone ringing. It doesn't last longer than a few seconds, so you conclude that it's just a text. His phone is face-down, so you couldn't tell who it's from. You're not much of a meddler, which is why you're quite hesitant to check who it's from, but what if it's important? 

Peering over to the hall that lead to the restrooms, you check his phone. The first thing you notice is his lock screen background—a sunset from a familiar view of the school courtyard, but the vantage point seems high, so he must have taken it from the rooftop. You didn't take Kuroo to be someone that sets aesthetically pleasing pictures as his lock screen. He struck you more of a person that uses pictures of famous athletes. 

After, your eyes focus on the text he received.

 

> **_From: Kumara_ **
> 
> **_Where are you?_ **

 

Kuroo, Class 5's deviant, is texting your homeroom teacher, the person he seems to loathe the most? Before your mind processes what it just witnessed, another text follows.   

   

> _**From: Kumara** _
> 
> _**I'm waiting at that hotel near the sushi place. I have what you wanted.** _

  

Your face immediately warms upon reading that last text. You slam his phone back where you retrieved it from and bury your face in your hands. Having read enough fanfiction about student-teacher relationships, you know something is up when a teacher sends sketchy texts to one of her strikingly good-looking students. Was that I-hate-her-guts thing just a façade? She also mentioned a hotel. Oh, no. Was Kuroo just using you as a cover-up to ditch practice so his teammates won't be suspicious? You don't particularly care, but... Oh, _noooooo_. 

You never expected Kuroo to be into that kind of thing, and though Kumara is quite attractive, you didn't expect someone so strict to stoop so low and commit minor corruption. Shit, now you're a witness. If they get caught, do you have to release your statement in court? Your father is going to be so mad—

"You okay?"

You nearly have a heart attack upon hearing Kuroo's voice. Forcibly, you try to even out your breathing but it's too late to convince Kuroo that you're fine.

"Never better!" you reply with too much enthusiasm. "Say, Kuroo, don't you have someplace else to be? I think I should go now. My house is only a few blocks away, so I can manage. Thank you for spending time with me!" With that, you gather your stuff and bolt out of the store.

"Oi, I thought we were gonna split the bill!" 

 

* * *

 

In the midst of your disarrayed mind, it comes off as a huge surprise to you when you see your father sitting comfortably on his recliner, watching TV, like a normal dad. A baseball game is on, and you're sure as hell that he's barely paying attention to what's going on. But still, you make sure to announce your presence.

"Welcome home," his reply comes out drier than you hoped for. 

"What brings you home so early, to-san?" you try not to seem so startled with his presence. You crouch down to pet Yuki, who greets you far more enthusiastically than your father did.

He coughs. "I've been sick lately."

"Oh." You didn't expect that, because just like Mika, your father never seems to get sick. You've been sick a handful of times, and since his job at the CCG requires his presence constantly, you're always left to fend for yourself. It's not that you don't like it, it's just the way things are, you suppose. Because even if your father isn't exactly the epitome of love and care, you know he gets worried in his own little ways. Whenever he knows you've fallen ill, when you wake up in the morning, there's always an oyakodon (the only thing he knows to cook, you presume) sitting on the dining table. 

You drop your things in your room first before pacing back in the kitchen. You yell over your shoulder, "To-san, do you want anything in particular for dinner?"

When he doesn't reply, you sigh and begin to prepare two donburi meals. But when you hear his heavy footsteps approaching the kitchen, you peer over your shoulder to find out what it is that he wanted. To your confusion, he exchanged his normal house wear for jeans and a ratty t-shirt. You nearly snort. He looks like a teenager.

"You like that ramen house near your school, right?" he asks without meeting your eyes.

You raise an eyebrow. "How'd you know?"

"I, ah, get deployed in the area a lot. I see you going inside with a girl often... She your friend?" 

You nod slowly, as you remove your apron. A devious smile plays at your lips. "To-san, are you asking me out for dinner?"

"...Yes?"

You chuckle before walking up to him. He's much taller than you are, so you have to stand up on the tips of your toes just so you can wrap your arms around him. You don't get to do this a lot. You never knew that your father smells like burned sugar and spearmint, regardless of how strange a combination of scents that must be. When you pull away, you beam at him.

"To-san, no need to act so nervously around me. I'm your daughter, not mom."

His eyes widen at your choice of words, and for the first time in a long time, you hear him laugh. 

"I'll just go change. Dinner's on you tonight."

 

* * *

 

The ramen house is quiet.

Given the fact that most of the people who have their meals inside are the students from Nekoma, you get why the place is so empty. It's the second day for finals tomorrow and, from the looks of it, everyone else is busy revising. But right now is a golden opportunity, wherein you can get a few cracks through your father's stone-faced façade. The last time you remember eating out with him is roughly about three years ago, after you graduated from junior high. Your mother was still brimming with life then, so it already seems like forever ago. So, not reviewing for an upcoming test is a little sacrifice to make just so you can spend some time with your father.

He orders a bowl of Miso and you go with your usual order of Tonkotsu. The two of you have come to an agreement to simply eat by the counter, seated on wooden stools, so the chef won't have to come out of his workplace to deliver your food. It seems that his waiters have taken a time off, as if predicting the drop in customers for the night. As you wait for your meals, your father takes you by surprise once more by starting up a conversation.

"How are things going at school?" 

"Pretty good."

"Who's the kid you always eat here with?"

"Oh, she's Yukihira Mika..." your voice falters when her name leaves your lips and suddenly, the dream you had last night comes crashing down on you in vivid detail. 

Ever the perceptive person he is, your father asks, "Is there something wrong?"

"To-san... Has anyone from Nekoma High been murdered by ghouls lately?" You're dying to know what on earth happened to Mika because she isn't answering either of your calls and texts, but at the same time, dread is seeping into your veins. What if your dream actually rang true? What if Mika really was killed by ghouls?

A grim expression encompasses his face. "I didn't want to bring up work, but what makes you ask?"

Shit. You didn't mean to ruin his mood, but your concern for Mika overshadowing everything else. "It's because Mika didn't go to school today. She never misses any school days. A-And I had a dream..."

He suddenly turns to you, suddenly attentive. "Do you mind relating it to me?"

The fact that he's talking to you so formally suddenly dawns on you.  He always spoke to you in that matter, like you're just some witness he's trying to get answers out of, and it mildly pisses you off. You're his kid, for fuck's sake. Why can't he bring himself to relax around you? But, pushing those hateful sentiments aside, you reiterate your dream in perfect detail to him.

His expression turns dark when you finish your story. "This morning, the body of an eighteen year-old girl was found in front of her house. She was heavily mutilated, and it was obviously not the work of some rogue animal. I was supposed to undergo the investigation with my colleagues, but as you can see, I fell ill. However, I was able to procure some of the details. From the outrageous amount of RC cells in her body, it was concluded that the girl was not human."

"What?"

Your father laces his fingers together and for a moment, he looks like a villain from a movie. "You heard right. That friend you hold so dear to your heart is a _ghoul_."

It's as if your brain refuses to register the words that are coming out of your father's mouth. Mika, sweet yet devilish Mika, is a ghoul? No...it can't be...or can it? That would explain her constant aversion for food. Why else would she give you so much of her own whenever the two of you hung out? It also gives justice to her inability to catch a cold or get sick, for that matter. All the evidence has been laid out in front of you like neon signs but you chose to dismiss every single one as mere coincidence.

You sit there in silence as the chef places your orders in front of you. If he noticed the drop in the mood, he doesn't say anything and continues reading through today's newspaper. Your father doesn't wait for you to recover your senses, and begins to eat. When you stare at the steam rising from your Tonkotsu, you suddenly remember the incident from last night before you dreamt of Mika. You remember, as clear as day, the sensation of blood pouring down your throat and eating raw meat. The mere memory of the taste makes your stomach upset, and you intentionally divert your mind to your ramen. But the taste simply won't stop haunting you. Now, you're sure as hell that nothing is a coincidence anymore, so your mind begins to speculate the wildest of ideas.

In your dream, if you were the ghoul that killed Mika, was the taste that you sensed beforehand...Mika, herself? Bile rises from your liver and travels up to your throat. Shit. Why do you have such low tolerance for disgusting things? You'll never make a good doctor at this rate. Shit. Stop _thinking_ about it.

"To-san?" 

He pauses, mid-slurp. The look he gives you roughly translates to "What is it?"

"Why do you...hate ghouls?"

He finishes the rest of his ramen first before he answers. "They're not supposed to exist."

"How are you so sure about that?" You didn't intend for your tone to drip with so much loathing, but you can't take any of it anymore. You never understood why your father signed up in the CCG in the first place. If it was out of pure rage because his wife was killed by a ghoul, you'd understand, but he's been in the organization before you were even born. Did something happen prior to your existence that made him hate the race with the fire of a thousand suns? 

The next moment that follows makes your blood freeze in your veins. The look he gives you leaves no trace of the man you embraced just a few hours ago. You're no longer looking at your father. You're gazing into the eyes of a ghoul hunter that has gone mad with animosity. He need not utter any words. You know from his manic stare alone that you should put yourself back in place. Suddenly, you recall why you hated spending time with your father at all. He turns into this...evil version of himself. Most of the time, when he's in his proper state of mind, he refers to his 'evil self' as if it's another entity, like it's a different person and not an extension of his persona; something beyond his control.

_"You best drop this topic if you don't want **him** to get upset, girl."_

You end up requesting your ramen for take-out, instead.

 

* * *

  

The next day, you overslept. Today's exams consist of Japanese Lit, English, and History, but since you didn't bother revising for any of those subjects, you consider it alright to skip today's tests. When you walk into the dining room, another oyakodon is cooked in an amateur manner along with your heated ramen from last night, but you're too sluggish to whip up your own breakfast, so this will have to do.

As you chewed through the nearly overcooked meat, you wonder if this was your father's own way of apologizing for his behavior last night. But no matter how much you reach out, regardless of how many times you think you've figured him out, there will still be an insurmountable gap between the two of you. Somehow, you feel like a child that just wants the comfort of a father's touch. Why did he have to have his head so wrapped up in his own work? The chicken turns bitter on your tongue as you think of what kind of life you would have if only your father didn't choose the path of ghoul extermination.

Your mother would still be alive, he wouldn't have gone half-mad, that other version of him wouldn't exist, you would be _happier_. But alas, you have been subjected to live in this reality by some higher order and the best you can do is simply suck it up. 

Your phone rings by your side and you've got half a mind not to answer it, but your courtesy overpowers your apathy.

"Hello?" You hope you didn't sound too dead.

 _"So why didn't you go to school today?_ " There's a sulking lilt to Kuroo's tone at the other end of the line.

You snort. "What I'm dying to know is how you got my number. I don't remember ever giving it to you."

_"As your friend forever, it is my duty to find out your phone number without asking you."_

"Doesn't that just make you a stalker?" 

He gasps. _"I am no such thing!"_

"Of course you're not."

_"Hold on a sec, don't think I'm letting you off the hook so easily. Why'd you ditch exam day?"_

"If I remember correctly, you weren't this concerned during my previous absences."

 _"That's because Yukihira wasn't dead at the time. I take it that you're brooding in your house at the loss of one of your dearest friends?_ "

Your chest pangs at the reminder. Huh. Funnily enough, the events that transpired last night scared you so shitless that you forgot one tiny detail—Mika is gone; cannibalized by another ghoul in the dead of night, where she had to die alone.

It's not fair. Not all ghouls are evil and Mika was proof of that. But honestly, what do you know? You've only been acquainted with her for a couple of months and she never even disclosed the fact that she was a ghoul, herself as well, to you. You put so much faith in her, yet she couldn't even do the same with you. Ah, damn. Why are you so naïve?

 _"Hey,"_ Kuroo snaps you out of your trance.

"...Yeah?"

 _"You still coming for our practice match later?"_ His voice holds so much expectance, it makes you reluctant to turn him down. 

"Ah, I don't know, Kuroo... I feel horrible. Lots of shit happened during the past few days. And I just want a break."

_"That so? Well, I can always swing by your place to make you feel better. How's that sound?"_

"You don't have to—"

_"I insist."_

"But you're already so busy...and aren't there exams tomorrow, still?"

He chuckles. _"No sweat. I told you I can balance my stuff well. If my friend forever requires some emotional support, I'm here to help."_

"I can't believe you're still taking that bullshit I said months ago seriously. Now I feel indebted to you."

_"You can pay your debts by letting me cheer you up, (Name). No one needs to face their misery alone."_

A smile curls on your lips. "You can drop by any time you want, Kuroo."

_"Please, call me Tetsurou. Or Tetsu. Whichever you like, really."_

"Nah, I think I'll stick with Kuroo," you insist.

_"And why is that?"_

An image of him with his dark eyes and ruffled, ebony hair materializes in your mind. The darkness of his features magnifies the award-winning grin plastered onto his face and suddenly the saying, "Stars can't shine without darkness" makes a lot more sense now.  

"It suits you." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, um, this was originally supposed to be a oneshot, but the shit's too long and grew itself a more substantial plot. This chapter is more of a foundation-building kind of thing ~~just like what I did with my Oikawa story, Equinox, that was never continued~~ and even at 8k+ words, I haven't gotten to the precipice of the story yet.
> 
> This was my first Tokyo Ghoul-related content, and not a lot of references were used in this, but if there were any mistakes on my part, feel free to point them out! I haven't read TG:Re in almost two years and I do admit that I'm getting very rusty.


	2. Chapter 2

Mika's funeral is a closed casket.

The official statement released regarding her death was "homicide committed by an unidentified murderer" because the administrators at Nekoma can't have the general public finding out that they let ghouls enrol in their institution. From the looks of it, the Yukihira clan can't afford having their identities exposed, either. So, with a little bit of cash scraped from both parties, they managed to alter the police report for Yukihira Mika. At least, that's what Kuroo told you.

He's kind enough to accompany you to her funeral. However, Kuroo insists that you two remain cloaked in the shadows of the dark room. It's a rather odd request, but you comply anyway. From the abundance of people inside, you're not very sure about the ghoul to human ratio. For all you know, the only humans in the room are you and Kuroo. So, yes, blending in seems to be the smartest course of action as of the moment.

"I didn't know ghouls had funerals," you tell him.

Kuroo looks blankly ahead. "It depends on their lifestyle, really. If their family's religious, despite being considered creatures from hell, would God really deny ghouls a funeral?"

"God wouldn't, but the CCG would."

He chuckles. "There's tons of politics in the war against ghouls and exterminators, you know. If you're part of a clan of ghouls that are the backbones of the city, take the Yukihira and Tsukiyama clans, for example, those louts won't kill you off right away. It's kind of a spoken agreement that if a ghoul clan makes itself useful, the CCG will most likely turn a blind eye. If Mika wasn't a Yukihira, this funeral is already over before it even started."

Apprehension begins to seep into your veins. "You're awfully well-versed about just ghoul things, Kuroo."

He casts a nonchalant shrug, his leather jacket crinkling in the process. "It's better to be ridiculously informed about your predators than be oblivious. Like I told you before, ignorance isn't always bliss."

Dismissing whatever momentary dread has materialized in the pit of your stomach, you look ahead. From your perspective, you can see everyone in the room quite easily. Through the dimmed lights, you try to scan through each individual, surmising who's a ghoul and who isn't. The fact that you're having a hard time with segregating identities terrifies you more than it should. Ghouls truly are the epitome of wolves in sheep's clothing.

"Can we go now?" you urge your companion.

He gazes at you, puzzled. "But we just got here."

"I-I just remembered I haven't done my homework. I'm sure Mika would understand..."

Though he looks undoubtedly unconvinced with your pathetic reasoning, he complies with no questions asked. When you turn around to leave, you swear everyone else in the room had their eyes on you.

 

* * *

 

This is the first time you actually get to see the volleyball team practice, and also the first time you get to meet Kuroo's best friend face-to-face. Kozume Kenma is an entity you won't have any qualms trying to get along with. This is a fact, even if you just met him twenty minutes ago. He likes silence as much as you do, Kuroo grates on his nerves as much as he does on yours, and he has a full arsenal of anime recommendations to boot.

As Kuroo whips the first years to shape on-court, Kenma accompanies you by the bleachers. The conversation you have with him is, by no means, boring, even if he _does_ have that monotonous timbre to his voice. There's an alluring intelligence to his nonchalance, and you're quite content with being able to befriend someone like Kenma. However, you're in the midst of telling him about some of your Shounen Jump recommendations, when he cuts you off, mid-sentence.

"Don't trust Kuro too much," he advises with the same lackluster intonation. You're not sure if he's being serious or not.

"What do you mean?"

Kenma's droopy-eyed stare locks with yours. "The more beautiful a flower appears to be, the more dangerous it is. I just hope you'd keep that in mind."

You want to tell him that you don't know what he means by that, but when your eyes wander to Kuroo, clad in his red and black volleyball uniform, the first thought that surfaces in your mind is how gorgeous of a man he is.

For the most part, before you started spending more time with the volleyball captain, it didn't escape your notice how popular Kuroo was with the female population (and with a minimal percentage of the males as well). Initially, you assumed that the reason why everyone was giving love letters and confessing to your friend on a daily basis was because, who wouldn't want the recognition from being known as the significant other of Nekoma's volleyball captain?

If there's one thing you've learned in high school, it's that the instant road to popularity is by dating anyone from the local sports teams (bonus points if you manage to get your hands on the team captain). But besides that, Kuroo doesn't need his title for the local populace to adore him. His face value, alone, makes people turn their heads whenever he passes by. To top it all off, he's studious; incredibly so. You found out that the reason he never pays attention to class is because he takes advance college prep courses at night, and that the only reason he enrolled at Nekoma in the first place is because of the volleyball team.

("My teammates grew on me," he said. "Except for Yaku. He can fuck himself.")

("I fucking heard that!" yelled Yaku in the background.)

Being one of the few people who get to see past the charming smirks and the responsible captain persona, the last thing on your mind is to gawk at his otherworldly looks and physique. But the more time you spend with the bedheaded freak, the more you start to realize why everybody admires him so much.

"Oi, Kenma," Kuroo shouts from the court. "Get your ass back down here. You better not be telling her things that might ruin my reputation."

An irk mark appears on the younger boy's forehead. "Your reputation is something I hold the least regard for."

Before Kenma leaves, he turns back to give you one last look. The gaze he spares you seemingly holds all the pity in the world.

 

* * *

 

When you woke up earlier this morning, the weight of foreboding pressed itself against your chest, as if you woke up with Yuki lying on top of you. You palmed your chest, trying to sense your pulse. Your heart was beating twice the usual pace and somehow, you knew something weird is going to happen today.

Fast forward to your lunch break, Kuroo invited you, out of the blue, to accompany him for lunch at the school's rooftop. With him being the only person that didn't annoy you as much as a regular person would, you conceded his request without another thought.

"Where do you live?" you question Kuroo in the midst of your quiet meal.

The sweltering afternoon breeze caresses your face like an iron. You place your bento on the ground so you can peel off your uniform blazer. When you squint your eyes and gaze at the cloudless sky, you flinch at the unforgiving glare of the sun. Through the distressing heat, you can still find yourself sneaking a quick glance at Kuroo.

As usual, his blazer is still missing, though he did at least have the decency to wear the prescribed sweater vest today. His tie is loose and not tucked in the vest, but the disheveled state of his uniform kind of suits him. Strands of his unruly hair are sticking to his skin, and when you look more closely, his forehead glints from the sunlight at a certain angle.

"Nowhere," comes his offhanded reply.

You fold your blazer and neatly place it on your lap, casting him an incensed stare. "That's very specific of you."

"Thank you. I try my best," he chuckles and nibbles on a rice ball.

"You know almost everything about me, but I know second to nothing about you. Seems rather unfair."

"Is that so? How about I take you out for coffee today?" His brow arches as he thoroughly chews his food. Your eyes intently stare at the rice ball in his hand and all of a sudden you want to eat it. Shit. You want to take a bite out of it so much, you can already taste it in your mouth... Wait, what?

When you taste your own saliva, you can sense a hint of sukonbu. Your lunch doesn't even contain the tiniest speck of dried seaweed, so why can you...? Your gaze shifts back to Kuroo, he's staring at you expectantly. Oh, _right_. He asked if he could take you out for coffee.

You frown. "Didn't we just have coffee?"

"That was two months ago."

"Still. If I go to the same place too often, I'll get tired of it."

Kuroo shoots you a miffed look. "Two months isn't often. Besides, I'm taking you somewhere else."

"Are you going to sell my innards to the black market?"

"What? No. I'll take you to where I work."

You gape at him. "Kuroo, most valuable player, and college prep student, is also working a part-time job? How much time do you freaking have, really?"

"Freaking?" he repeats condescendingly, a smirk making itself known on his lips.

"Cursing is something that I don't do, okay?"

"You're such a pansy."

"Am not!"

"But, for real, just meet me after practice, if you want," he offers. "I'm taking you to the coffee shop I work at. Technically, I live there, as well."

Your brows raise. "Your family owns a coffee shop?"

Unconsciously, your eyes train themselves on the barely eaten rice ball in Kuroo's hand. Without even returning it to its proper packaging, he shoves the food inside the brown bag that came with his purchase. You think you should find it strange, but you're too focused on your conversation to point it out.

"It's kinda like that?" His face contorts with concentration. "Well, the people I work with are as good as family, I guess. They won't bite. Probably"

You contemplate, weighing your options. Since your dad left you a note earlier, saying that he has overtime for the night, maybe you can spare a few hours before heading home.

"Sure," you agree.

He crumples the paper bag into a ball with just a single hand. Kuroo beams at you and a jolt of static grazes your spine. Without waiting for you to finish, he turns around and waves without facing you.

"See you at six."

You blink as he closes the metal door behind him. When you look down on your bento, there's an uneaten rice ball on top of your brown rice and, hey, has your face always been this warm?

"Yeah," you whisper, unable to suppress the grin forcing its way on your mouth. "See you at six."

 

* * *

  

"Anteiku?"

"Yep," he smiles and unchains the last bike on the rack at the school entrance. He shoves the metal links in his gym bag like its part of his everyday workout equipment. "It's just a few streets away."

 

You nod. "Wait, how will I...?"

He pats at the grilled surface just below the seat of his bike. "You sit here. I've got good balance, don't worry."

You hesitate for a moment, but when he offers out a hand, you take it. Tense fingers clutch at your schoolbag as you try to figure out where to place your feet. Should you just bend them mid-air or should you mount the heels of your shoes on the gears? Wait, is that even safe?

"Oi, Kuroo."

He hums before handing you a helmet. You shakily click it in place. Kuroo starts to move, and your hands instinctively tug on his shirt. You blush, but he doesn't seem to have noticed. Instead, he works out his balance and starts pedalling out of the gates.

The sun has long bled into the horizon, and overhead is the moon that now holds the reins. Under the rake of moonlight, inky darkness seems to have consumed the city as stuttering street lights bring the dark road back to life. The brewing summer breeze permeates the air, and you honestly don't mind the sudden humidity blowing past your face as Kuroo zips through the streets. You lock your bag in one arm, while the other is snaked around his waist to grant yourself a minimal sense of safety (holy shit, his stomach is so _built_ ). You're not used to hitching rides on a bike, so you're more or less terrified.

"Relax, will you?" You manage to hear Kuroo's voice through the mild breeze. "This'll only take ten minutes."

A few moments later, you've arrived at one of the bustling areas in Nerima. All kinds of people—students, employees, the homeless, couples, families—are milling about in the crowded street. Kuroo rings the bell attached to his bike ocassionally to announce his presence. And since Nerima's pedestrians, as you've heard, are one of the politest of the sort, they give way for Kuroo.

When you've managed some semblance of stabilization, you begin to wonder how Kuroo manages to maintain his state of equilibrium with two forces that can possibly disrupt his balance: a.) the stuffy gym bag slung to his right side, and b.) his friend that's grabbing onto his torso like it's the end of the world. Must be residue from all the training.

The swift journey may be smooth, but it's not necessarily free of pollution. You've been spat at with car exhaust more than twice already. But a few minutes later, Kuroo veers left to a quaint neighborhood.

"You can hug me if you like," he suggests, and you can hear his voice much clearer with the noise of the city being left behind. "I don't really mind."

If you were not as scared of the possibility of falling off the bike, you would have shot down his offer in an instant, but that isn't the case. "Don't think anything of it, okay?"

He sniggers."Yeah, yeah. Of course you don't have the hots for me."

"I-I don't!"

"Didn't say otherwise, kitten."

"Kitten?" Your nose wrinkles at the nickname.

He shrugs as he comes to a halt in front of a pedestrian lane. He's the one giving way, this time. "It suits you."

You touch the tips of your shoes to the ground and you suddenly feel anchored to the brick path. When your eyes drift to your arms, you groan. When did you subconsciously succumb to the desire to hug this guy?

"See, it's not so bad," he assures with a satisfied grin.

"Hmph," you turn away. "How far do we have to go?"

"Anteiku's just up ahead."

You glance straight ahead and is greeted by the sight of a tall, brick building that had one metal door right in the middle. At first glance, you thought it was a night club of some sort, but when you see the sign Anteiku in capital letters above, you think otherwise. When the light on the pedestrian lane turns green, Kuroo quickly wheels the two of you across the street.

Before he parks his bike on a rack, he halts and gives you ample time to dismount. You remove the helmet and give it back to him before hopping to the ground with the grace of a cat thrown into a tub of water. Instead of helping you up, Kuroo takes the time to find humor in the incident and obnoxiously laughs in your face.

He clutches his stomach with one hand and balances his bike with the other. "You should have seen the look on your face! Bwahahahahaha!"

"Shut the hell up, you idiot! Help me up!"

When Kuroo recovers, he holds out his hand. You take it, and you didn't really mean to feel it up. The calloused surface is kind of just a foreign feeling against your fingers. His skin has hardened from all the times he's had to manipulate a volleyball and you're lying to yourself if you say you don't like it.

He lifts you to your feet with one arm and you exert your best effort not to stare at the way his visible muscles clench at the slightest. You lower your head, hoping he's oblivious to how flustered you are, currently. At the back of your mind, you think that hey, Kuroo isn't stupid. He might've noticed ages ago, but he's just being irrevocably discreet.

"Shall we?" he sticks out his arm and, this time, you finally muster up the guts to decline. He pouts and sticks his hands in his sweats instead.

"This place has been here for a good while," he briefs, as you two go up the stairs. "It's actually owned by Coach Nekomata. But with the Interhigh coming up, he's been staying longer to organize each member's papers. Y'know, I always offer my help, but he just tells me 'get going, your customers are waiting for you, Tetsurou'. Yeesh. I'm not _that_ popular."

You really want to tell Kuroo otherwise, but he's already opening the door to the café. The warm light that enters your eyes makes you squint, quite used to the veil of Tokyo's darkness. But when the scent of roasted coffee beans hits your nose, your vision adjusts and suddenly, you're greeted by a pleasant sight.

"Welcome to Anteiku," chirps an exquisite looking lady with silvery hair. When you look closely, her eyes are colored differently—one is blue, and the other, a light brown. The smile she adorns makes you wonder how a single person can look so dazzling. "Oh, Tetsu-chan, you didn't say you were bringing a guest."

Kuroo shrugs and casually strides inside the place, completely ignoring the woman who greeted him and leaving you standing by the entrance. He stops in front of another door that has a sign that says 'Staff Only' stuck on it. "Alisa, could you make her feel comfy for a while? I'm just going to change."

The woman, Alisa, puffs out her cheeks. "How rude, calling your senpai without an honorific? You're mean, Tetsu-chan."

Kuroo shrugs. "There is no way I am addressing you as senpai and 'Alisa-san' just sounds repetitive. Anyways, I'll be back in five. I leave her in your care," with that Kuroo disappears behind the door.

You gape at your sudden abandonment. Did he just ditch you?

"Oh, sorry about that," Alisa sheepishly compensates, before eyeing you with subtle scrutiny. "Do you wish to sit by the windows or by the bar?"

"Uh, anywhere's good, really."

"The bar, it is."

Alisa guides you to your seat and you hop on one of the bar stools with some difficulty. When she hands you a menu, you carefully scan its contents. You consider ordering some pasta, but then you remember that you're on a pretty tight budget, since you're saving up for some college textbooks for reference. Entrance exams are right around the corner and there's no way you're not getting into the University of Tokyo. Instead, you order Anteiku's signature sandwich and a cup of espresso.

Alia scribbles your order on a notepad. "The Anteiku sandwich and an espresso for Tetsu-chan's lovely guest." She grins. "Your meal will be ready in five to ten minutes."

You nod in understanding before Alisa leaves you to your own devices and goes inside the Staff Only room, as well. You only notice him now, but there's actually another person working behind the counter. He has his back turned to you, so you can't exactly see his face, but from the looks of it, he seems to be making a cup of latte. You decide to just let him be before you let your eyes wander to the interior.

If the architect of this place meant for it to radiate some sort of homesy feeling, he hit the jackpot. From the minimalist arrangement of furniture to the color palette, everything seems to cater to your sense of security. The aroma of coffee wafting through the air also contributes greatly to the atmosphere.

Your appreciative thoughts are interrupted by someone slamming a hand on the wooden countertop. "Green tea latte for Mika-chan?"

When the name leaves his mouth, you feel as if your heart skipped a beat. It's been how many months now? A girl approaches the counter; you're too scared to see if she has the trademark golden locks of a Yukihira. But when you hear her say, "Thank you, Suguru-kun," with a giggle, your shoulders relax. She lacks the teasing lilt of Yukihira Mika's singsong voice.

"Oi, you look like you've seen a ghost."

It takes you a while to realize that the barista is talking to you. You sputter out an apology but he dismisses it.

"S'fine. Why do you look so agitated? Long day?" Now that he's facing you, you can clearly identify his features. This guy has dark hair with his bangs swept to the side and his slanted eyes make your skin crawl at the slightest.

"N-Not really. I just thought I saw a friend," you murmur.

"Oh? Well, I think your order's up next. Did Alisa take it?"

You nod.

"Alrighty then." He paces back into the assortment of drinks and powders displayed on the shelves. He plucks a paper from a piece of rope stuck on either end of the open space to his right, and wait, why didn't you notice that before?

"Hmm...a sandwich and an espresso. Not the most ideal combination, but the customer is always right, they said." He crumples the paper on his hands and shoves it in the pocket of his apron. "Name's Daishou, by the way. Regulars call me Suguru, but you may call me whatever your heart desires."

"I'll stick with Daishou."

He sighs. "Yet another maiden rejects my advances."

"It's only normal to recoil when a snake whispers in your ear, Daishou."

You whip your head to see Kuroo, eyes narrowed at the barista currently concocting your drink. Your gaze trails down to his change in outfit, and the pushed up sleeves of his button up further accentuates the presence of his muscles... What the hell? Since when were you so particular about muscles?

Daishou's eyes slant even further when he glares at Kuroo. "Ah, if it isn't Tokyo's biggest disappointment."

"Oho? What was that? My hearing capacity doesn't cover idiots who can't even pass their Physics final."

The barista goes red in the face. "W-Who told you?"

Kuroo snickers, sliding himself into the seat next to yours. "I've got eyes everywhere, Suguru-kun."

"Don't call me that!"

"Eh? Is Tokyo's biggest disappointment gaining the upper hand here?"

"Would you fine gentlemen please keep your senseless bickering to yourselves? Customers are beginning to notice your embarrassing display of idiocy." Another person joins the party and, wait... He's kind of familiar.

"Is it just me or are you even more draconian with us than you are with Bokuto?" Kuroo leers at the newcomer.

"What kind of person uses the word 'draconian' in a sentence?" Daishou scoffs.

"A person with an IQ higher than yours, of course."

"Kuroo-san. Daishou-san," the newcomer scolds with a tone bordering vexation. When his eyes flick to you, curiosity overshadows his frustration.

"Ah, this is (Name), my friend. She used to be from Fukurodani, too," Kuroo supplies while roughly slinging an arm across your shoulder. "She wanted to see where I lived."

The other boy nods and puts out an outstretched hand. "I'm Akaashi Keiji, second year setter from Fukurodani. Pleased to meet you. If I were you, I'd steer clear of these two. My brain cells deteriorate everyday whenever I am unfortunate enough to be in their vicinity."

You shrug off Kuroo's arm and flash Akaashi a lopsided smile. Gingerly, you shake his hand. "I already suffer the misfortune of being Kuroo's classmate, so I understand your pain, to an extent, that is."

"Oi, quit slandering us like we're not even here, Akaashi," Daishou snarls as he pushes some buttons on the coffee maker.

Compared to the almost seething Daishou, Kuroo laughs off Akaashi's insults like they were an inside joke. "I am absolutely enthralled by how honest you are, Akaashi. Are you always like this with Bokuto, too?"

Akaashi gives him a pointed look. "Bokuto-san may be hyperactive, but at least he doesn't engage in petty rivalries."

"Ah, but Akaashi, rivalries aren't just 'petty'," Kuroo remarks with air quotes. "Though we degrade ourselves on a daily basis, on the court, Daishou and I actually help each other improve with... _friendly_ competition."

Nothing about Kuroo's speech seems to move Akaashi. He flicks his gaze to Daishou, then to Kuroo, before saying, "Kuroo-san, Daishou-san is a snake on and off court, and you know it."

Daishou growls. "Now you're gettin' it, pretty boy."

Your eyes widen when Daishou jumps over the bar with the grace of a parkour artist. His eyes are overflowing with ire, yet Akaashi isn't even the least bit fazed. The older boy pulls back his elbow and balls his fingers into a fist. He is right in front of you, and his blazing fury can melt you into a puddle.

But just before Daishou lets a punch fly, someone grabs his elbow. The riled up boy whips his head back, ready to clobber whoever it was keeping him from beating the shit out of Akaashi, but his anger evaporates once he realizes who it is.

"N-Nekomata-san?" The color drains from the slant-eyed boy's face.

The elderly man you frequently saw in Nekoma's gym grins. "Getting playful, are we, Daishou? Say, weren't you completing an order? You're still on duty, boy. Settle your personal quarrels after the shop closes."

"Yes, sir," Daishou scrambles back to his original place behind the bar and pours your cup of espresso in a white mug. From the open space to his right—which you presume is connected to the kitchen—he grabs a plate of sandwiches and places your meal in front of you.

"One espresso and an Anteiku sandwich for (Name)?" he tries mustering up a genuine smile but fails.

You giggle. "Thank you, Suguru-kun."

The current party, placid Akaashi included, erupts into a fit of laughter once Daishou turns red in the face.

 

* * *

 

You spend the last day of classes before summer vacation at Anteiku. Actually, ever since your first visit last week, you've been spending almost everyday at the quiet coffee shop three districts away. Why do your homework in the confines of your lonely house when you can do it where Kuroo Tetsurou's knowledge is readily available? However, since it's the last day of classes, your teachers have decided to be generous. Meaning, you actually don't have any homework to do for the summer.

But Kuroo, Daishou, and Akaashi are currently off-duty, since all three have a volleyball competition coming up. The Interhigh, Kuroo called it. So now, it's just you, Alisa, and her younger brother, Lev.

"(Name)-san, is it true that your father's a CCG investigator?" he asks, eyes wide with curiosity. 

You laugh as you take a sip of the espresso Alisa made for you (hers is better than the one Daishou makes). "Yep. But we aren't really close so I don't know a lot about being a CCG officer. Do you wanna be one someday?"

He makes a face. "I sure do, but I can't since I'm a—"

"Hyperactive child!" Alisa interrupts, slamming a tray of freshly baked cookies on the countertop. "Jeez, Lyovochka. What did I say about oversharing?" She says that last part through gritted teeth.

"I think I heard one of the customers calling out. I'll go check it out!" Lev laughs nervously before walking away.

You raise an eyebrow. "But isn't the shop closed already?"

Suddenly, the doors to the shop open, revealing three very sweaty boys.

"I told you we should have just taken a cab," Daishou barks.

"Cabs are for the elite class, Daishou. We must remain humble," retaliates Kuroo. 

Akaashi, ever the neutral party, strides directly into the Staff Only door, which, you learned, lead to their own respective quarters. It seems that every employee here at Anteiku lived on the second floor of the complex, apart from the Haiba siblings. 

"You're out late," Kuroo addresses you with a ruffle to the hair. "Thought you would have went home without me already."

You shrug. "It's not like I was waiting for you or anything."

He snorts. "Of course you weren't."

"Would you please stop flirting in front of me," Daishou begs, claiming the seat to your right as his own. "Oi, Alisa, could you pop open a cold one?"

Alisa spares him a glance while she places her cookies in a plastic container before declaring, "No."

"Why do women hate me?"

Kuroo hums. "Well, ever since the snake tempted Eve at the Garden of Eden, God made sure that all snakes were hated by women."

"I don't need any of your biblical smart-assery right now, Kuroo."

"Aww, you've been like this since the three of us met at the station. Did you get dumped, Suguru-kun?"

Daishou slams a fist on the counter and you almost assume that he's going to punch Kuroo in the face right there. But instead, he closes his eyes and you watch as the lines of anger on his face subside. When he opens them again, gets up and stalks to the staff room without another word.

"You're a bit too hard on him sometimes, you know," Alisa comments and there's an underlying tone of irritation to her words. 

Kuroo sighs, stretching his limbs. "He knows I don't mean it."

"Does he?"

A thick silence encompasses the room. You shift uncomfortably in your seat, trying to drain what's left of your drink without choking on the sheer tension in the room. 

"Alright, _alright_. I'll go apologize," Kuroo announces, standing up. "I'll take you home in a bit, alright?"

You want to tell him that he doesn't have to, but then again, why'd you stay so long in the first place? Instead, you nod.

When Kuroo is our of earshot, Alisa heaves a substantial sigh. "Those boys... They never get along."

"May I ask why?" 

Alisa takes one cookie and opens her mouth a little to take a nibble, but promptly closes it again (which was weird because those cookies smelled heavenly! You'd want a bite, yourself). She places her elbow on the counter and rests her chin on the palm of her hand. Her discolored eyes seem far-off. "If there are soulmates that are fated to hate each other for the rest of their lives, Kuroo and Daishou take the cake, I say. I don't know why it's like that, honestly. But sometimes they tend to get destructive."

You can tell that Alisa is about to say more, but then the door to the staff room squeaks open, revealing an irked Kuroo. 

"He won't open the goddamn door," he reasons. 

When Alisa ignores him, he sinks into a deeper level of disdain. He grabs your wrist. "Let's go."

Not really in the mood to argue with a pissed off Kuroo, you bid Alisa a quick farewell, which she reciprocates with a sly smile. 

While Kuroo works to unchain his bike from the rack, you can hear him muttering some colorful vocabulary under his breath. You remain silent until you mount yourself behind him. 

The trip is a quiet one, since the rush hour has long died down. The breeze sings in your ears as you traverse the nearly empty roads. Your fingers clutch at Kuroo's still damp shirt and you wonder why he didn't have the mind to change out of his clothes. He might get sick. 

With the lack of heavy traffic, you arrive at the main district much quicker than you hoped for. His silence during the whole journey is quite eerie, so you decide to strike up conversation.

"Do you have classes tonight?"

He nods.

"Do you wanna eat first at my place?"

He shakes his head.

"Why?"

He shrugs.

Annoyance is contagious, you realize bitterly.

 

* * *

 

When Kuroo drops you off in front of your home, he almost pedals away without even saying goodbye. However, before your bedheaded friend can get away, you yank his shirt back, causing him to topple off his bike.

"The fuck was that for?" he protests as he gets up on his feet.

"You're being a dick," you deadpan. 

The irritated stare he casts softens before he scratches the back of his head. He mumbles something you can't hear.

"What was that?"

"I said I'm sorry."

You sigh and look up at him. He looks magical under the fluorescent light of the street lamp and it pains you just to look at him. A million words are materializing on your tongue but none will get past the strict boundary of your sealed lips. Instead, you convey the words you aren't able to articulate by encasing him in an impulsive hug.

You bask in it longer than you should. Contrary to popular belief, Kuroo doesn't smell "manly". He smells clean, like a fresh batch of clothes from a laundromat. However, when you realize that you're overstepping your boundaries a bit, Kuroo wraps his strong arms around you and buries his face on the top of your head. He's so _warm_. 

"I'm gonna be late," he reminds you, yet he refuses to trade this embrace for anything else.

"I know." 

You're the first to show initiative. You untangle yourself from his grasp and turn away, praying to whatever deity up there to not let Kuroo notice the way your face is heating up. He picks up his bike and just stands there, like he's waiting for you to say something.

"Well?" you ask.

He opens his mouth, but closes it and shakes his head. "Good night, (Name)." 

You almost regret simply settling for a hug when you watch his pedalling form fade into the distance. 

 

* * *

 

This year is the first year where you actually looked forward to summer vacation. After managing to survive the long, crunching days beforehand, not waking up to the sound of your alarm clock seems like a day of rain after a year of drought. As usual, when you drag your barely conscious self out of your room, your father is nowhere to be found. However, when you pass by your father's study, you notice that the door has been left ajar. The realization rouses you further and you walk over to the room with light footsteps that would make a shinobi proud. You push the door further and the creak of its old hinges grates at your ears. You have to remind yourself not to be so afraid, since your father isn't home anyway. However, the sight that greets you makes trepidation seep into your bones.

The room is in a state of absolute _disaster_. Papers, tons of it, are strewn on the floor, as if someone had haphazardly thrown them off the desk; the window behind your father's swivelling chair has been shattered, leaving many shards in its wake; the bookshelf he always kept so tidy has been overturned; the one living organism that your father has successfully taken care of for the past five months—a small bonsai tree—has been uprooted and discarded on the wooden floor. 

With a deep breath, you pad through the ruined room barefoot. Apprehensive eyes scan the area and a dozen questions swirl in your mind at once. Were you robbed last night or was this your father's doing? You have no means of being sure because ever since the incident at the ramen house, you never wait up for your father anymore, but it's not like you did so before, so there isn't much of a difference. On his day-offs, you would spend as much time away from your house, just so you can avoid crossing paths with _him_.  
  
You crouch down, carefully analyzing the documents on the floor. But when you thoroughly read through its contents, your brows scrunch up.

 

The jargon typewritten on the papers in your fingers make little to no sense. Sure, you've encountered the terms RC type and RC level before (basic ghoul knowledge) but why does your father have access to records like this for 3rd Year Class 1? Upon further inspection, you realize that there are actually information for all the third year classes in Nekoma. With shaking fingers, you browse the data about Class 5 to see if there are any things to take note of.

  
  
The papers nearly fall from your grip. Your lip trembles as your index finger traces the one by one image of Kuroo right next to his data. The grin he donned is the kind he'd show you when he knows something you don't. His hair is sticking out in all directions, as usual, but he looks younger in this particular photo. There's an absence to his now prominent eye bags, and that alone makes him look entirely different.  
  
But the bit that your mind is pulling your focus on is Kuroo's data. Being the daughter of an investigator, you'll learn a thing or two about ghoul anatomy. Their RC type indicates what kind of RC cells flow in their bodies; by extension, what kind of kagune they can produce.

If your memory serves you right, a bikaku kagune is the kind that sticks out of the tailbone of a ghoul and therefore looks like a tail. You've never actually seen a kagune in real life so you're not very sure about what exactly a bikaku does. (Though he almost holds no regard for you, your father actually makes sure that you're not tainted by the industry of ghoul extermination. Meaning, whatever knowledge you have about ghouls is only minimal.)  
  
You stare at the words on the file with unparalleled intensity, hoping that the information would just rewrite itself out of thin air. This can't be right. Kuroo can't be a ghoul, too. First, it was Mika, now him? Is everyone that's close of your heart a ghoul now?  
  
You tear that particular piece of paper from the stapled bundle and fold in fourths to shove into the pocket of your pajamas. Running out of your father's study, you fish your phone out of the other pocket and dial Kuroo's number. He answers after five rings.  
  
_"Hello?"_  
  
"Akaashi?" You make a face upon hearing his smooth voice. "Not to be rude, but where's Kuroo?"  
  
The other line remains silent for a while and you wonder if Akaashi disappeared but then he speaks up, the slightest twinge of concern lacing his voice. _"Kuroo-san didn't come back after his college prep class last night. We thought he was just having a night out, but he still wasn't in his room this morning. Daishou-san and Haiba-san are out looking for him."_  
  
"And he left his phone, too?"  
  
_"Unfortunately, yes."_  
  
You swear under your breath, hoping Akaashi wouldn't hear. "Can I come over? Is the shop open?"  
  
_"Not yet, but you may drop by early."_ There's a lengthy pause. _"Something tells me that we're going to have to open late today."_

  

* * *

 

When you arrive at the scene, Akaashi is standing in front of the door to the café, arms crossed like a skinny bouncer. You race up the steps and he wordlessly opens the door for you. Though Daishou is obviously not working behind the bar, the faint scent of caffeine still fills your nostrils. However, the place's aroma isn't the most interesting bit.

"Kuroo, snap _out_ of it!" roars Daishou as he attempts to bind the other boy's wrists behind his back with a braided cord. 

Your eyes meander towards Kuroo and the sight that beholds you makes the hairs at the back of your neck stand. His back is turned to you and his shirt is missing, though he's still wearing his sweats from yesterday. Your friend's sweat-coated body would have been a view that you'd savor on normal days, but, seeing that there's a red and black protrusion sticking out of his tailbone, you figure that this isn't the right time for your shameless fantasies. 

A kagune. You never thought it would be this fascinating, up close. The news scoops always blur out the organs in documentations, and from the way other people have described it to you in the past, you conjured up a lasting image of some slimy, green external organ that can choke you to death. But, looking at Kuroo's glowing kagune reminds you of liquid fire. Like a moth, you're tempted to go near it, but when you take your first step forward, Kuroo snaps his head towards you and snarls. 

His eyes. Where are his eyes? The person looking at you doesn't have the optics you've come to adore so much. A flurry of veins are rooting themselves on the skin around his eyes. His sclera has faded to oblivion and the blacks of his pupils have turned into a sinister crimson. You want to call out his name just to check if the Kuroo you've come to know all these months is still there. But your breath hitches in your throat when he overpowers Daishou's grip and lunges at you. 

Before he could touch you, something slams Kuroo into the countertop and the polished wood shatters at the force. You realize that it was Alisa. The kagune that she has is a bit different than Kuroo's. It stems from her shoulder blades, and where the boy's kagune looks like an organ doused with liquid neon, Alisa's looks like it grew its own protective layer of mushy skin. Her heterochromatic eyes are replaced by the same kind of eyes that Kuroo has. You struggle to recall what they're called... Is it kakugan?

"Do you really want to kill off one of the few people that's put up with you so far, Tetsu-chan?" she growls. "Now, sit down like a good boy while we wait for Nekomata-san, will you?"

Kuroo's adamance shines when he coils his tail around Alisa's leg and flings her against the shelves behind the counter. One moment, the sound of shattering glass rings in your ears, and the next, Alisa's bloodcurdling shrieks fill the room. You can barely hear Daishou yell over her siren-like wailing. When you look at the scene once more, you can see blood spurting all over the walls and the ceiling, and it takes you a split second to realize that it's Alisa's. Her position makes it hard for her to take control of the situation, though it makes it easier for Kuroo to bind her legs with his kagune while his hands keep her arms pinned to her sides.

Akaashi is telling you something, but your mind zones in on Kuroo chomping off a portion of Alisa's kagune. Blood fills your mouth, but at the same time, doesn't. You can taste the organ as if you're the one feasting upon it firsthand, but you know that you'd rather get hit by a bullet train first before you eat raw ghoul organs. Akaashi is shaking you by the shoulders now, but you're unable to tear your eyes from the way Kuroo is helping himself to a serving of Haiba Alisa like she's an eat-all-you-can buffet with complementary screams of bloody murder. 

Suddenly, you recall an old tale your mother used to tell you when you were younger. At the time, it was but a harmless story of cookies and milk.

"Once upon a time, a boy took a cookie from the box and ate it," your mother started. "Then, at the other end of the room, he saw a girl drinking a carton of milk. As the boy ate the cookie, the more he thought he was drinking the milk, as well. And we all know how good cookies taste with milk, right, sweetie?" 

You giggled when your mother pinched your cheeks lovingly. "What happened next?"

She hummed. "Well, eventually, the girl walked up to him. Her carton was still half-full and she asked the boy if he wanted some. In return, the boy asked her, 'How did you know?' She answered, 'I could taste the cookie and I wanted one, too. It's only fair if I share my milk if you give me a cookie.'"

With your mind yet to know how to comprehend underlying details, you craned your head in confusion. "How can she taste the cookie when she isn't even eating it yet?"

Your mother smiled. "Because when two souls are interwoven together, their senses are also connected. Most of the time, it's the sense of taste that two souls share. Whatever one person eats, the other person may be able to taste, even if they're not even eating the food itself. Though, the frequency of being able to share tastes depends on how closely knit the relationship is. The closer two souls are, the more they can share their senses."

"That can happen?" 

"Of course, it can happen," she chided as if you uttered something blasphemous. "One day, sweetie, you're going to meet someone who you'll share the various tastes of the world with. For all you know, you'll get to taste croissants from France, pizza from Italy, salads from Greece, whatever it is that your hearts desire."

"How about the flesh of a ghoul, ka-san?" you mutter to yourself, completely tuning out everything around you—Alisa's screams, Kuroo's feasting, Daishou's attempts to disengage Kuroo from Alisa, Akaashi's pleads for you to get out of here. 

You don't know what otherworldly force makes your legs move on their own accord, but they do. Daishou is shouting for you not to come any closer, but you shake your head and tread forward. Alisa is still making her agony known, and Kuroo is still burrowing his mouth in the flesh of her half-eaten kagune. With liquid courage coursing through your veins, you place a trembling hand on his bare shoulder. The touch sears your skin, but you don't recoil. You can't.

"Kuroo," you whisper. "that's enough."

He whips his head back at you and growls. When you grab him by the shoulders and pull him into an embrace, you half expect him to impale you with his kagune right there, but it seems that even a predator like him doesn't expect affection to be served to him on a silver platter. You hold him close and tight. You're saying his name like a string of prayers, hoping that your faith can save him. You try to look for any semblance of fear in your heart, but you're unable to find it. This is just Kuroo after all. Though he's not in his proper state of mind, he's still the same smartass that you've come to love. 

The room has fallen silent. Alisa has stopped screaming. You're too afraid to guess if she's just passed out or dead, but you can't spare a thought for her—not when you can feel her blood from Kuroo's mouth matting your hair. His heart is beating wildly in his chest and you know you finally got him back when he returns your embrace. Stifled sobs resonate in the room and you're certain that they aren't coming from you.

"I'm sorry," he croaks.

You pull away to take a good look at his face. His kakugan has vanished; the only evidence of his earlier actions being his blood-caked lips. Tears are incessantly flowing from his eyes and the liquid desaturates the crimson on his chin. You gently dab his eyes with the pads of your fingers, but Kuroo suddenly rests his head on your shoulder. His arms lock around your waist and you almost topple over with all the weight he's forcing you to support. 

Kuroo is warm, warmer than last night, warmer than anything you've ever known. Even if he's soaking blood and tears into your shirt, you don't care. You want to bask in this moment forever.  

However, your union is short-lived and your forever expires just as quickly as it started. The front door to the shop opens, revealing a crestfallen Nekomata.

His orders are brief. "Keiji, call Lev and let him know what happened to Alisa. Patch her up after. Suguru, help Keiji get her to a room. Tetsurou," the older man pauses before glowering at him. "May I have a word with you?" 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For some side notes about the kagune that have appeared in this chapter:  
> -Kuroo's kagune was loosely based off Nishio Nishiki's kagune. But where Nishiki's kagune is a bright blue, I've incorporated Kuroo's to match his personality, a burning red. (Just kidding. Red cause yknow Nekoma)  
> -Alisa's kagune is similar to Hinami Fueguchi's kagune. However, unlike Hinami's chimaera kagune consisting of both Koukaku and Rinkaku cells, Alisa only has an Ukaku kagune. Thus, making them look like wings. 
> 
> ALSO, it's the 24th, where I am right now and I just want to wish everyone reading this a very Merry Christmas!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, ladies and germs. This has been due for an update MONTHS ago but my workload with my academics became too much of a burden. Sooo I took a long-ass hiatus from my on-going fics. (yet I indulge myself in writing the occasional oneshot) But of course, in the many months I've been gone, I've thought about possible developments for this fic. Now, instead of being a four-part story, originally a two-part story, this will now be a full-blown multi chapter fic that even I have no idea how many chapters it'll have!! It received such good feedback while I was gone and I figured that I shouldn't condense a good plot into four chapters. Though I'm not sure if I can stay committed to updating regularly, do know that I'm not going to give this up. BUT do expect the next following chapters to be considerably shorter than the first two~ 
> 
> Anyways, here's chapter three <3

The events that follow are brief; no one in the room intends to make the situation even more convoluted than it already is. Akaashi and Daishou carry the unconscious Alisa to the second floor (Nekomata assured you that she'll live, since ghouls do have amazing regenerative abilities), and you assumed that you'd have to hit home early, but the old man insisted that you stay while Kuroo undergoes thorough questioning.

The three of you take seats in one of the leather couches once Kuroo finishes cleaning his face up. The blinds in the shop are still drawn, and you speculate whether or not the regulars are wondering why Anteiku is yet to open its doors. But before you can ponder more about it, Nekomata speaks.

"Can you please tell me what happened, Tetsurou?" His tone doesn't hint even a speck of fury, like that of a concerned father. Part of you feels envious that Kuroo gets this kind of attention, but you dismiss your trivial feelings to spare him a glance. His shirt is still nowhere in the vicinity, and, up close, your eyes can practically lavish his strapping torso. You mentally slap yourself. Kuroo is in a delicate state at the moment, and you have it in you to ogle his godly anatomy? 

Kuroo's head is cast down as he knots his fingers together. You can barely hear his voice when he says, "I don't know."

"What do you mean?"

He turns his head to the older man, eyes pleading for something you can't put your finger on. But in the end, he sighs, defeated. "It started around June. I-I have these episodes where I just...lose it. It's like my body isn't my own anymore. But whenever I black out, I don't recall anything that transpired when I come to, again."

Your eyes shift to Nekomata, who's taking seems to be taking account every word that's coming out of Kuroo's mouth. "Where were you last night?"

"Nekoma. I had classes with Andou-sensei."

"Did you go anywhere else after?"

A crease appears on his brow, like he's having difficulty recalling. "I remember getting on my bike. I was supposed to meet someone...in a hotel. But I ran into an investigator, I think."

Your heart stops, suddenly reminiscing that moment in the cat café which already seems like a lifetime ago. Kumara. He was supposed to meet Kumara in a hotel last night. Bitterness coats your tongue and you ponder why you're so...so _affected._ But Nekomata doesn't seem to mind whatever implication Kuroo's words might harbor. "Do you remember which investigator it could be?"

Kuroo's breathing is becoming labored with each bated breath. He unfurls his fingers and digs his nails into his sweatpants. "I don't know who he is, but he's been on my tail for a while now. He won't come in for the kill, though. He never does. He just observes from afar like some stalker."

"How peculiar," the older man comments. "As far as I am aware, investigators are ordered to exterminate any ghoul whose identity they have confirmed. I've never really heard of an investigator that squanders his time."

White silence saturates the air that still reeks of drying blood. Nekomata gets up and saunters over to the ruined bar. He retrieves a mug that has been spared from the wreckage, proceeding to make some coffee. You turn to Kuroo once more, his eyes staring into nothingness. From the tightness in his posture, you conclude that he's still somewhat shaken. You contemplate whether or not you should offer some words of solace, but he beats you to it.

"Are you alright?" he inquires meekly. 

The smile that tugs on your lips is totally out of your control. It's just that, with the rattled state he's in, you just can't wrap your mind around the fact that Kuroo still minding your well-being. How very Kuroo of him, putting others before himself. 

"I'm beyond fine," you respond. "I should be asking you that."

He gives you a lopsided smile. "Me? Well, I'm awfully jittery. The first round for the Interhigh is next week, can you believe it?"

"Yeah. You've been training non-stop. I kinda missed you." 

He raises an eyebrow. "Kinda?"

"More or less," you grin, dropping your gaze to your lap. But when everything that just happened dawns on you, your brimming smile subsides. 

Everyone in this building is a ghoul, you're certain. Why you haven't noticed before, you don't really know, but now you're a hundred percent sure. In hindsight, running a coffee shop is a pretty nice cover-up for ghouls. Since the only human delicacy they can actually ingest is coffee, why not blend in the café industry where one can easily camouflage themselves in the midst of their competitors? If you were an investigator, the last thing you'd expect is for ghouls to run a humble business.

"So," you begin, hoping that your voice is as even as you hope for it to be. "You're a ghoul, huh? Never could have guessed." You follow that up with a laugh that fails to hide your unease.

Kuroo eyes you in a way that makes it seem like his heritage is a crime and he's been caught red-handed. Trembling lips hinder him from saying anything coherent in reply, but before you can tell him that it's okay and he doesn't have to explain anything at all to you, he takes ahold of your wrist and leads you into the staffroom, leaving old man Nekomata alone in the ruined café. 

You've never actually been inside the staffroom, so you're quite surprised to see a flight of stairs in the middle of the kitchen. You're no architect but you're sure that putting a staircase smack in the middle isn't the best choice of placement. But seeing that Kuroo must have already gotten used to the strangely placed stairs from all the time he's spent living here, he climbs each flight with grace and you have to pick up the pace so you wouldn't trip on your own feet. Damn this boy and his impressive legwork. 

He looks straight ahead, not paying any mind to the moaning Alisa while Akaashi tends to the worst of her injuries in what seems to be the common room. Daishou is stroking her hair and whispering words that can't quite reach your ears. However, when he catches wind of Kuroo's presence, he glares at him like Kuroo just murdered his mother. But the other boy pays no mind to his enraged friend and immediately shuts the door behind him when he takes you to what you presume is his room.

When your eyes skim the area, you see posters of popular athletes that you're somewhat able to recognize plastered all over the plain gray walls. A collection of picture frames sit idly on a bookshelf filled with college textbooks. There's a volleyball jacket with the word 'Nekoma' embroidered behind it laying on the carpeted floor, and Kuroo immediately zips it on.

"Sorry," he sighs and plops himself on top of the unmade bed. "I felt like the atmosphere was choking me down there." 

You nod, choosing to keep your silence for a while just so he can collect himself. You walk over to his shelf, eyes glazing over the frames on top. The first portrait is of the Nekoma volleyball team. Kuroo takes his place in the middle of the line formation just next to Coach Nekomata, sporting the ever-usual lazy grin. Of course, you spot a handful of other familiar faces you've seen every now and then at Nekoma, but then your mind diverts to the possibility of who else might not be human on the team. You've been right by Kuroo's side all this time, yet you only realized what he actually is today. Were you incredibly dense or was he simply an excellent actor?

However, uprooting the fact that he's a ghoul isn't the most pressing detail that's plaguing your mind at the moment.

"Hey, can I ask you something?" you turn to him.

Kuroo's lying on his bed now, back turned to you, but he hums to acknowledge your question.

You take a sharp breath through your nose that comes out as a sigh from your lips. Would he think you're weird if you ask him about...that? Well, Kuroo is an open-minded individual, so you doubt it. But, still...

"Do you believe in soulmates?"

Thick silence imbues the air and you wonder if he accidentally fell asleep, but your assumptions are proven otherwise when he hauls himself back into a sitting position. His legs are crossed and his hair is a little bit more tousled, but he's looking back at you in confusion. 

"I believe in reincarnation, but not necessarily 'soulmates'" He wiggles his fingers in attempt to make air-quotes.

"Oh." Why did you have to sound so disappointed? "I was just curious."

He smirks. "You found your soulmate or something?"

You attempt to deny his claim, but you only end up a sputtering mess, much to his amusement. When Kuroo is done relishing your embarrassment, he pats the empty spot next to him. You hesitate for a sliver of a moment, but take a seat on the soft mattress, regardless. It feels odd, being able to sit on his bed like both of you are normal teenagers. But you can't really talk. Until today, that's all you thought the two of you were—normal teenagers. 

"I wasn't always a cannibal, you know," he breathes. 

Ah, there it is. He broke the thin ice that you were already having a hard time traversing on the tips of your toes. You're clueless as to what you'll say in response, but you take it as a good thing when he continues talking.

"My cannibalistic tendencies started at the same time I began having those blackouts. Honestly, so much stuff happened this year. It was the start of my third year and I was voted to be the next captain of the volleyball team. I signed up for some advanced prep, and I was officially on the regular working roster for Anteiku." He chuckles, like all of that is anything but a big deal to him. "I hadn't had the time to properly look for...sustenance so I had to coordinate with some of my acquaintances from Nekoma."

You raise a brow. "Doesn't Nekomata-san provide for all of you?"

"He insists, yes. But Anteiku is already a hotspot for ghoul rations. The others already rely on him for their food, and I don't really want to add more to his growing list of mouths he has to feed."  

"So...how do you come by?"

His cheeks turn a little pink. "I, ah, get some help from Kumara-sensei."

When the words come out of his mouth you feel as though the budding flame in the recesses of your heart has frozen over. The idea of Kuroo possibly seeing your homeroom teacher has been a notion that's been stuffed in the abandoned storage room of your mind, since you never actually saw him show the tiniest speck of affection towards her. But, apparently, since today is revelation day, maybe Kuroo hasn't been as honest as he lead you to believe. 

When he doesn't talk any further, you begin to speculate. Is Kumara-sensei a ghoul, too? Possibly, since she's the one who's feeding Kuroo (in more ways than one, you presume sourly). Also, he confirmed earlier that he still rendezvous with her in a certain hotel. Why does their specified meeting place have to be in a hotel? Can't she just meet with him here at Anteiku and give him the goods with discreet packaging? A list of underlying reasons for their choice of venue is materializing in your mind and none of them are of integral nature. 

"How long?" You make sure your tone doesn't sound borderline jealous.

A lopsided smile plays on his lips, but it's a bit absentminded, like he isn't aware that what he's currently doing. "Mutsu has been my teacher since my first year and I hated her guts. She's a ghoul investigator that doubles as a teacher. The CCG deployed her in Nekoma, so she could keep an eye out for the ghouls enrolled there. We all know that Nekoma is one of the few schools in Tokyo that accept our kind for students." 

 _Mutsu_. If you recall correctly, Kumara-sensei's first name is Mutsumi. Huh, so they aren't only on a first name basis. They even took it all the way to the nicknames.  

"If you call her Mutsu, then why is her contact name Kumara?" you ask before you can actually think about the gravity of your inquiry.

He blinks, then laughs. "How'd you know? Were you snooping around my phone while I wasn't looking or something?"

"Nah. I just kinda read over your shoulder once," you lie pathetically. "But don't worry I didn't read anything beyond the name."

Kuroo's smile borders on impish. "Good thing or you might have seen the dick pics I sent her."

Being the indisputable prude that you are, his crude word choice has you reddening by the minute. You're not sure if you're jealous, but seeing that the word 'dick' alone makes you flustered, what more actually seeing one? 

He snorts at your bashfulness. "Calm down. It was a joke."

"A joke?"

"I have morals too, you know," he sighs, carding his fingers through his dark hair. "Though, as moral as I can be while I'm dating my homeroom teacher."

"I don't think there's anything wrong with that," you insist. 

He gives you a look. "You read erotic fan fiction. Those kind of people always have the most flexible of minds, kitten."

Your face heats up even further. "W-What? I don't read such content!"

He winks. "Sure you don't."

The conversation shifts into yet another awkward kind of silence and for the first time, you're actually clueless as to how you're going to carry on a conversation with him. Kuroo has been a constant presence in your life ever since Mika's death, and conversing with him is one of the most natural things for you. But now that you're slowly beginning to peel off all the layers he used to wrap himself up in, you aren't sure how to manipulate your speech anymore. Is this guy really even your friend in the first place?

Regardless, you clear your throat. "So, how did you wind up canoodling with a CCG investigator?" After realizing how antagonistic you sound, you do a little backtracking. "I mean, since my own dad's an investigator, I know a thing or two about having illicit relations between a human and a ghoul."

"Our relationship isn't illicit," he corrects.

You ignore him. "But seriously, how _did_ you end up with Kumara-sensei?"

His breathing hitches, but relaxes back into its steady pace. You're not supposed to feel guilty about seeing how uncomfortable he is, right? He at least owes you an explanation, right?

"On the winter of my first year, I almost got exterminated at the hands of her partner, Fuji Hanzou."

The name sounds familiar. You vaguely recall a rushed phone call from your father years ago ("Hanzou is dead?"), a breaking news report, and a headline for the daily paper ("Most Promising CCG Investigator, Fuji Hanzou, Found Dead in Shibuya"). You only pay attention to what goes on in the world of ghoul exterminating every so often, but Fuji Hanzou rings a bell quite loudly. 

But Kuroo doesn't stop from his storytelling, not paying any mind to whether or not you even know Fuji Hanzou. "That guy was a rising star in the exterminator industry. He was this—" he demonstrates it by making a broken circle with his index finger and thumb, "—close to decapitating me. But then, by some twist of fate, Mutsu attacked him from behind. Pummelled a crowbar into his spinal cord."

Your brows knit. "But wasn't that guy killed by a rogue ghoul?"

He leans back on the wall and smiles slightly. "Mutsu has persuasive power, if you haven't noticed yet. With a little manipulation of the incident report, she managed to chalk it up as an accident. The case has been closed ever since."

"Uh," you drawl, a little puzzled. "I get that she saved your life, but you don't seem like the type that would repay a favor with lifelong loyalty."

Kuroo snorts. "Weren't you listening a while ago? I _hated_ her. I asked her why she did that, but for once, she lost her composure. That strict teacher persona faltered into that of a trembling woman with sullied hands. 'I don't know', she said." He sighs. "Man, you know how this goes. Boy hates girl, girl saves boys life, boy still hates girl, but eventually warms up to her when she takes care of him, and then bam—they're in love."

You blink. "If you're trying to tell me that your unconventional relationship with our homeroom teacher is a common occurrence, you're terribly wrong."

He inhales a sharp breath before clicking his tongue. "I-I haven't really talked about it to anyone so I'm sorry if I'm assuming that you'll catch on quickly."

You roll your eyes. "I'm not saying that you spill all the tea in one go, you idiot. We can take it slowly. You've got enough shit to worry about."

You grant him enough time to contemplate, but when he keeps the silence far too long, it worries you. You ask him what's wrong, but all he says is:

"You said 'shit'," eyes dazzling in the dim light. "You're evolving, kitten!"

 _Yep_ , you conclude with a mental sigh. _Kuroo Tetsurou is an idiot._

 

* * *

 

"Are you sure you're going to be fine?" Akaashi questions while dropping you off in front of your house. The younger boy insisted on taking you home on Anteiku's delivery scooter, since Coach Nekomata needed Kuroo to help out with the repairs in the shop. (You're pretty sure it's for repentance since everyone part of the staff is more than capable of rebuilding the place.)

You nod and hand him the spare helmet he lent you. "Thanks a lot Akaashi, but I'll be fine."

He flashes you a hesitant smile, concern on the edges of his lips. But he doesn't say any more before speeding away. When you turn around, you notice that your father's shoes are at the doorstep of your home. Confused, you check the time on your phone, only to find out that it's only one in the afternoon. There shouldn't be a reason for him to be home this early.

"To-san?" you call out once you enter the house. The lights in the living room are off, just like how you left them this morning. However, along the hallway that lead to your bedrooms, the door to your father's study is cracked open, light spilling into the darkness. With your heart starting to beat threateningly in your ribcage, you approach the room with hushed footsteps.

When you muster up enough courage to open the door to the study further, the sight that greets you underwhelms you a little. With a broom and dust pan in his two hands, he silently sweeps up the scattered fragments of the pot of his bonsai tree. He doesn't seem to notice your presence at first but when the floorboards creak under the weight of your foot, he visibly flinches and drops the dustpan, breaking the fragments into even tinier pieces. 

You mumble a quick apology, and your father sighs. He gets on his feet and dusts off his trousers. When you get a better look at him, he's still in his Investigator's uniform and looks as if he hasn't gotten a wink of sleep for the past week. 

"I'm guessing you don't know how this happened?" You listen closely to the tone of his voice, gauging what words you need to use. He seems calm, and not as scary. He's normal. You _hope_ he's normal.

"Yeah..." Your voice nearly hitches in your throat. _Fuck_. "W-When I woke up, the place was a mess. But I didn't touch anything, I swear!" 

His mouth curls up on one side in a dismal-looking smile. "At least you're unharmed," he says, as he sweeps up the mess of shards again. "Pray tell, where have you been? You're not one to go outside on the first day of summer vacation. You made new friends, perhaps?"

Even with his balanced tone of voice that doesn't hint any speck of malevolence, your heart is still pounding in your chest. You absolutely loathe how bad you are at talking to him. But you cut yourself some slack, remembering that your father is the most unpredictable person you've ever had the chance to meet. His mood is a land mine and you're treading the terrain a bit too carefully. You take a deep breath into your nose, which comes out as a shaky sigh. 

"I j-just went out for a walk. We've lived here for quite a while now, but I still get lost in the neighbourhood sometimes," you respond, hoping that you sound as convincing as you want yourself to be. "What brings you home so early, To-san?"

He gets on his feet and places his cleaning materials on top of his ruined desk. The mess of papers you left this morning is now neatly stacked on the table. Your father eyes the pile warily. 

"I needed to fetch some papers for a certain case I've been assigned to. They were supposed to be here, but that's obviously not the case." 

Dead silence fills the room. Your chest pangs with guilt, and the piece of paper you tore away from the mess from earlier feels like a dead weight in your pocket. Dread is creeping up your spine and you desperately try to find a sign on your father's face. Does he suspect that you took something? He does have incredibly accurate intuition. Your trembling lips are about to fail you with a confession of what you did, but you're interrupted with the sound of your father's ringtone. 

“Hello?” He sounds irritated, but as he listens further to what the caller has to say, his face shifts into a look of trepidation. “I see. I’ll get back to the office in half an hour. I just need to talk to my kid.”

He ends the call almost immediately before crossing his arms and leaning on the desk. Your father remains silent for a while, assessing whatever the person on the other line has told him.

After a while, he sighs and walks over to your trembling form, and you had to fight the instinct to back away from him. When he’s right in front of you, he holds you firmly, but not painfully, by your shoulders. Up close, his tired eyes replace the fear in your heart with something else entirely.

“Listen, I won’t be coming home for a few days. The ghoul I’ve been assigned to hunt down has been upgraded to an S-rated case. He’s a bit familiar with me. I’m the one who’s exterminated his parents a few months back, you see. Just now, he massacred my partner’s family.” He purses his lips for a second, as if trying to form a good sentence in his head. “I’m willing to bet that he is going to go all out on me, as well.”

It takes you a few moments to fully realize what your father is trying to tell you, and when you do, your heart clenches. “What do you want me to do?”

He lets go of you and turns back to his desk, gathering the documents to his chest and shoves it into a suitcase that’s placed on top of one of the cabinets that are still in tact. “He’s probably found out where I live by now, but one of my colleagues informed me that though he managed to escape, he’s been gravely injured by the Investigators present at the crime scene. He won’t be striking anyone for a while.”

 “(Name),” he says the name he’s given to you so endearingly, it sounds too good to be true. “I want you to pack your things. I’ll book you a room in a hotel to stay in for the next few weeks. I can’t keep you by my side – it’ll be too dangerous – but I can’t leave you alone in this house, either.”

“To-san…”

"I’m sorry if I’m making you move out on such short notice. It’s for your own good, (Name). I promised your mother that I would always keep you safe, and that’s what I intend to do.” He smiles a little before closing the distance between the two of you with an embrace.

When you get over the initial shock from such a gesture, you wrap your own arms around his built frame. The smooth fabric of his suit against your skin makes tears well up in your eyes. You can’t remember the last time you hugged your father, but you’re sure that it was still back when your mother was alive. It feels…sweet.

He’s the first to break contact, and an apologetic look settles on his face. “I need to go now. I’ll message you the details of where you’ll be staying. Also–“ he stops before rummaging his pockets, pulling out his wallet. He hands you a plastic card.

You study it in your hands for a while, wondering why the hell your father is entrusting you with his credit card. You shoot him a confused look.

“Since I won’t be able to provide for you, use this for the time being. But remember, don’t make us go bankrupt.” You almost laugh at that, but his haste distracts you.

When he walks towards the door, he takes another good look at you, almost seeming sad that he has to go.

“Take care of yourself, (Name)."

 

* * *

   
When he closes the front door to his house, the first thing your father does is pull his mobile phone out. He makes a quick call.

_"Hello, Kumara here."_

"I've gotten her out of the house for the time being. Are the preparations complete?"

His fellow Investigator sighs. _"Are you sure you want to move our stronghold? Setting up the machines is very troublesome, you know?"_

"I would rather be hassled by our equipment than get caught. Investigator Suzuki is peering into what we're up to too frequently. I won't be surprised if he already knows what we're doing and where our current base of operations is."

_"Why did I agree to help you again?"_

He chuckles. "Are you wavering now, of all times, _Mutsumi?_ "

The woman is silent for a while, but when she lets out a defeated sigh, your father smiles to himself. 

"Have our things delivered to my home by eight in the evening, but before you do, scout the house and the area first. Make sure that (Name) doesn't bear witness to any of it."

Before Kumara can even say anything in reply, your father hangs up, quite pleased with himself. 

"Just a little longer..."

 

* * *

 

"So what you're trying to tell me," Kuroo begins while he helps you put some of your clothes in a suitcase, "is that your father just conveniently gave you his credit card and a hotel to stay in with no supervision whatsoever for the next few weeks?" 

You shove a few books into a backpack. "Yeah, what about it?"

Kuroo looks at you like you're a primitive being. "Isn't that every teenager's dream?"

"Well, if you call moving somewhere else because a rogue ghoul is hunting down my family a dream, then yes, it's definitely a dream come true." 

"Oh, right. I forgot about that bit of your story." 

You roll your eyes before heading to the bathroom outside to retrieve some of your toiletries. Kuroo is whistling a song that you're quite familiar with, but can't put a name to. You carefully place your toothbrush, a bar of soap, some sachets of shampoo, and a tube of toothpaste into a large Ziplock bag. Then, you think about bringing your facial care products and some lotion, but the sound of something shattering breaks you out of your contemplation.

"Kuroo?" you call out, as you hurriedly run back to your room. When you arrive at the scene, there's a broken picture frame on the floor and Kuroo looks as guilty as he can be. 

"Sorry," he apologizes sheepishly. "I was just checking out some of your stuff and I accidentally knocked that one down. I'll clean it for you." He swiftly exits the room to presumably look for a broom. 

With a tired sigh, you crouch to the floor to pluck what you can from the shards. You toss them carefully into the trash bin before picking up the frame that Kuroo broke. The picture it held was taken at the Fushimi Inari-taisha, the path with a hundred traditional gates. You can vaguely recall the amazement you felt upon seeing all the red _toriis_. Your mother and father were side by side, laughing as they tried to get you to face the camera. Of course, you were a stubborn six year-old so they didn't get the perfect picture that they wanted. With all the time you've spent in this new house, you barely pay any mind to this portrait anymore. The last time you've actually looked at it was the day you first moved in...

"Oi, you're bleeding."

Your head snaps towards the doorway, and Kuroo is standing there holding a wooden broom in his hands. A crease of concern forms between his brows. When you look back down on your fingers, you realize that you pricked yourself on one of the shards. Out of curiosity, you wave your cut up hand to Kuroo's direction, trying to garner some sort of primal reaction from him. Instead, he cranes his head in confusion at your action. But when he realizes what you're trying to do—

"I'm a _ghoul_ , not a vampire, (Name)." He rolls his eyes. "I'm glad that you're trying to find some humor in this situation, but you need to patch yourself up."

"It's just a small cut. I don't see why it's a big deal." 

Faster than your mind is able to comprehend, Kuroo is right in front of you. The air feels like it's frozen over and you swear that your heart skips a beat. Veins are slowly creeping towards his eyes and you're too stunned to react when he takes your bleeding hand and dips his tongue onto your wound. The sensation, strangely, makes you shiver, and the taste of iron fills your mouth. When you look into his eyes, his irises are the same color as your blood. You're absolutely petrified, but in the next second, when Kuroo closes his eyes and blinks them open again, his kakugan has vanished and he's sporting a conceited smile. 

"You're cute when you're terrified."

You kick him in the groin.

 

* * *

 

Kumara Mutsumi is relatively nice to talk to. She wouldn't have been able to work as a part-time teacher in various schools all over Tokyo if she didn't have the moxie to charm her employers into hiring her. So far, her track record is flawless. In all of the missions that that slightly deranged colleague of hers has given to her, she hasn't failed to do what had to be done. In all honesty, abducting vulnerable children, even if they are ghouls, isn't something she enjoys doing at all, especially when she knows what's in store for them when _that man_ gets his hands on them. 

But now, her only task is to see if his house is clear for transferring their equipment...and other things. Her main mission is the last thing on her mind right now, but when she sees a familiar figure exiting the house, carrying a bunch of suitcases, she hides behind one of the thick-trunked trees in the area. (Thank goodness that man and her daughter lived near the woods.) She curses under her breath. He only mentioned that his daughter was in the house. What is _Tetsurou_ doing here?

Another person emerges from the door—it's you. You're carrying a large box in your arms, while a backpack is slung over your shoulders. Even from afar, she can tell that you're a spitting image of your father. But personality-wise, she can gladly say that you're not like him, not even by a fraction. She's only had you as a student for only a few months but she already gained an idea of how good of a person you are. It's quite a surprise to her when she first knew of your connection to that psychotic investigator. How did you stay uncorrupted while living under the same roof as _him_? Kumara can't even stand being in his presence for longer than she has to be.

She shakes her head. Setting aside her personal musings, she strains her ears enough, so she can hear your conversation.

"I'm still mad, in case you're assuming that I'm not," Kuroo says gruffly as he walks over to the parked car in front of the house. 

You snort. "What, you thought I was just going to stand down when you did that to me? Hell, no." 

He opens the trunk of the vehicle and carefully places the suitcases he's carrying. He takes the box in your hands and stuffs it inside as well. When he closes the trunk, he huffs. "Don't you think that was going a little overboard though? It was uncalled for! I feel like my entire manhood is being threatened here."

A giggle resounds in the area. "Well, if you're going to pull off a stunt like that on me, you should've expected that. Remember what Newton said? To every action there is always opposed an equal reaction."

"Newton died a virgin. What does he know about getting kicked in the balls?"

"Hah? What right do you have to judge Sir Isaac Newton's virginity? What are your sources for this claim?"

"The Internet."

"You're hopeless."

"Why don't you just apologize?"

"Well, why won't _you_ apologize for scaring the shit out of me?"

Silence envelops the area for a while, and Kumara has to check if the two of you are still there. 

"Oi, why are you looking at me like that?" 

"You said 'shit' two times in the same day! I'm proud of you."

Kuroo yelps as you hit him in the head. "You're such an idiot!"

He laughs and it sounds almost foreign to Kumara's ears. She's been entangled with that bedheaded student for a while now, but she only rarely gets to witness this whimsical side to him—not that she wants to, of course. In the end, Kuroo Tetsurou will only play right into that man's hands...

When you and Kuroo leave, she phones your father about the status of the area. He gives her the green light to transfer everything that's necessary to their project. She hangs up without any further questions. However, before her next phone call, she gazes up into the night sky. She whispers her sentiments for a certain boy into the wind, where no one but the moon can hear her.

"I'm sorry it had to be you." 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HI OH MY GOODNESS ITS BEEN MONTHS SINCE THE LAST UPDATE :^( I've been so god damn busy with school lately, since I'm graduating this year, too!! And i've only found time to write this up since i'm on christmas vacation. Expect another long-ass hiatus, cus duh, it's me. BUT i'm not giving up on this fic. It's one of the best ideas i've had lately, and i'm still trying to conceptualize everything until the whole plot falls into place. I hope you enjoy this long due update though!

"Well, here we are," proclaims Kuroo before carelessly plopping a box full of your textbooks on the carpeted floor. You shoot him a look to be more careful, but you set aside telling him off aloud. Frankly, you're quite tired. On the way here, the car ride had been silent to an almost awkward extent. Kuroo told you that he had tried striking up conversation when the two of you have gotten stuck in heavy traffic, but you have been too deep in your thoughts to notice. Well, could he blame you? Upon rationalizing what your father just told you to do—stay at a five-star hotel for two weeks while he deals with a hypothetical deranged ghoul—the more strange it seemed. You never really understood him. One minute he's all smiles and takes you out on a ramen dinner, the next, he's a cold-blooded CCG investigator who hates ghouls with a burning passion. You wondered what he would think when he finds out that his daughter is very close with the creatures he despises so much. 

"Wanna get dinner?" Kuroo asks, you suddenly snap out of it. Oh, yeah. He's helping you move into your temporary home. 

"Yeah, uh, I'm kind of on a budget right now..." You scratch the back of your head. You'd really die for a bowl of oyakodon or tonkatsu right now, but the Chemistry textbooks you're yet to purchase are calling out to you all the way from the downtown bookstore. 

He looks at you, confused. "Your stay comes with paid meals. Didn't you hear the guy at the lobby?" 

"What, really?" 

"You're so out of it today, huh?" Kuroo suppresses a chuckle. "Want me to brief you on the other important details that dude said while you were zoning out?"

You sigh in defeat. "Fine."

"Well, first off," he begins while grabbing the rest of your bags from the spot by the door where the bellboy left them. He walks over to the desk with an exceptional woodwork done to it, and continues. "Room service is available twenty four-seven, so should you need anything or should anyone come attacking you in the dead of night—" You glare at him. "I'm kidding—you can just ring one of the staff up on the intercom by your bed." He gestures towards the black telephone mounted on the wall next to the king-sized duvet with covers that suggested a resplendent thread count. Kuroo prattles on about the do's and don'ts inside the room, but you have enough common sense for that, so his voice just fades into the background, as you examine what is supposed to be your home for the next fortnite. 

You've never been to the Grand Hyatt before, but this room certainly lived up to your expectations. The clean beige walls complement the carpeting on the floor which came at a darker shade. To the right of the duvet is a gray sofa set facing a round glass table with a complementary bonsai tree sitting on top of it. To the far left is the wooden desk where Kuroo placed most of your bags on. A flat screen TV lay on top along with a—wait, is that a—coffeemaker. To top it all off, there are two huge rectangular windows in the far front of your duvet, and nearly beside it. The city skyline, which you never really had a chance to savor since you live by the forest, is on full display, each of the city lights seemingly winking at you. Kuroo is still chattering away with something about hotel amenities when you take a step closer to the windows. Hundreds of pedestrians are still bustling about, and though this isn't Tokyo's busiest intersection, there's still something amazing about getting to see all these people from such a high vantage point. 

In fact, you can see almost everything, even in the darkness of the night. The couple walking into a love hotel a few blocks away, a group of tourists gazing at the lights from electronic advertisements on buildings, some guy in a suit with his phone in his ear, and that one person standing right on top of the building across the street—hold on a second. 

You squint your eyes, trying to make out more details to the person just standing on the roof of the corporate building in front of you. It's too dark to see, since he's too far away from the light below, but you can scrutinize that he had shining red eyes. In disbelief, you rub your eyes a little, but when you try to catch a glimpse of him again, he's gone.

"Aaaand there's complementary mineral water in one of the cabinets. Just go find 'em," Kuroo finally finishes with his "briefing". But he immediately notices something's up. "What's the matter?"

Your eyes instinctively wander back to the building across the street, but there's no sign of the shadowy figure's presence at all. You consider telling Kuroo about it, but ultimately decide against it all in a split second. 

"I'm starved. So, what do they have on their menu again?"

 

* * *

 

Turns out, the hotel is home to ten different restaurants that offer all kinds of cuisine, and the decision of where to eat kept volleying between you and Kuroo. But because of your inability to come to a sound decision, you both resorted to having in-room dining. Now, after thirty minutes of bickering in the ground floor and thirty more minutes of waiting time, here you are enjoying a plate of grilled salmon with a side of roasted broccoli and buttered corn. To his delight, the pre-paid meals were for two, so Kuroo is currently helping himself to a full serving of beef tenderloin steak, which is the hotel's codename for gourmet human flesh. Kuroo wasn't proud of it and even offered to eat human food, but you insisted that you don't mind while he consumes another one of your kind over dinner. When that discussion was put aside, both of you agreed on eating on the small round table, placing the bonsai on the floor for the meantime. That's when he probably thought it would be a good time to intrude in your personal life.

"So, don't you think it's a little strange that your dad suddenly just does...this?" he gestures towards the hotel room itself. 

You take a chunk of your savory salmon in your mouth. The flavor almost makes you say no, but then you remember the urgency in your father's voice from earlier. You were probably just overwhelmed by the staged affection dripping from his tone that you failed to notice that it was, indeed, staged. He was never like that, even if he  _did_  mean to be affectionate. He's the type of person to show that he cares in the subtlest ways possible, like that one time he cooked your meals the morning after he got all threatening and creepy at the ramen house. If there's one thing you know about him, he likes keeping a majority of things to himself. You want to slap yourself. How could you not have seen how strange he was acting?!

"You're zoning out again," Kuroo reminds, whilst snapping his fingers in front of your face. 

"Yeah, sorry. Uh, how much does one night cost in this place again?" 

 He rolls his eyes, obviously knowing that you weren't listening the last time he told you what the lobbyman told you. "Around fifty thousand yen, give or take." 

You nearly choke on the food in your mouth. Being the cheapskate that you are, you mentally compute how much a two-week stay would cost all in all, and the result is a whopping seven hundred thousand yen. You know your father is a high ranking CCG officer, but why spend this much on an unnecessary hotel stay? 

"Yep. Pretty strange," you agree, while taking a sip of the juice that came with the meal. Kuroo briefly smiles at your reaction and takes a bite of his "beef tenderloin steak", and the supposed flavor of the dish he's eating materializes on your tastebuds once more.  _Oh, no. It's this sensation again_.

 ~~It tastes like the best tofu you've ever had but no no no no. That's a human being he's eating. It shouldn't taste good to you, but how could you know? You've never once in your life had to eat humans because your body couldn't process human food.~~  

But why,  _why,_ ᵂᴴᵞ ? Why can you taste what he's eating? This doesn't make sense. Can he taste what you eat, too? What does this _mean_?

"Oh, and thanks, by the way," he pulls you out of your moment of near insanity with a full grin. "I really was okay with skipping dinner. I don't want you feeling all uncomfy by me eating...you know."

"That's not what I'm worried about," you mumble.

"Come again?"

"Ah, I said, it's fine." You immediately regain your composure and slap on the most convincing smile you can muster at the moment.  

"Well, that's good. Most humans aren't okay with it. But _of course_ they wouldn't be okay with it." There's an edge to his voice that you can't quite ponder on, but before you can comment on it, he suggests that you two just watch a little TV for a while. You don't protest. 

On-screen was a Western chick flick that you aren't really paying attention to because every bite Kuroo takes from his steak pulls your attention away from the movie and to the slew of flavor in your mouth. You try to compare it to all the instances that this happened. The night before you found out Mika died, and the time he got in a scuffle with Alisa this morning. 

You freeze. That was this morning? This is proving to be a terribly long day. Your appetite has gone when you began tasting human flesh in your mouth every time Kuroo eats, and the fatigue in your bones is beginning to settle. Kuroo laughs at a joke that the leading man said in the movie, but all you can focus on is the amount of food he has left on his plate. He's got one fourth of the steak left, but it's as if you've been tasting it for years now. You want it to stop. You want to cut out your tongue if it means not tasting his food. Why? If there was a God, you're dying to ask why you're being agonized by the putrid taste of your own kind on your tongue. _~~No. It tastes good. NO. You shouldn't think that~~._ Ghouls really enjoy this? Is your father right about them being ruthless creatures? Or maybe it's just your sense of justice making you think that it's disgusting when in reality, human meat tastes just as fine as any other animal? You don't know, you don't know, you don't fucking _know—_

"Oi, are you okay? You look a little pale," Kuroo's voice sounds far away even though you know he's just right next to you. Your head is aching and the room around you is starting to spin. You don't know if he notices your current state when you say, "Yeah, I'm good." When his brows crease in concern, you try to stand up to prove your point, but you momentarily forgot about the plate of salmon and vegetables on your lap. It clatters to the floor. Just when you are about to join your discarded food on the floor as well, your lightheaded gaze lands on one of the windows, and the shadowy figure with the red eyes is right in front of it. 

That's the last thing you remember before blacking out.

 

* * *

 

 

"Daishou?"

Daishou bolts awake upon hearing Alisa's voice. His neck is a little stiff but his eyes immediately shoot back to Alisa. She's lying on the more comfortable couch in the common room. Bandages are wrapped in various parts of her body, but the one on her leg already has blood soaked through it. He should call Akaashi—

"What happened?" Alisa grabs his wrist before he could call Akaashi in his room. Her unmatched eyes are full of so much confusion, Daishou himself is confused as to why she couldn't remember what transpired this morning. 

"Kuroo attacked you, remember?" he replies quite warily. 

Her brows knit, presumably trying to remember what she can. But she eventually clicks her tongue and tries to stand. "I-I should go home. I probably caused some trouble. Where's Lyovochka?"

Daishou gestured for her not to move so much. "You didn't cause any trouble at all, Alisa. If anything, it's Kuroo." Rage starts to bubble in the pit of his stomach once more. Kuroo is always causing trouble, but this is the worst he's done. He attacked a co-worker in Anteiku, a safe haven for ghouls! His actions go against everything that Nekomata-san worked so hard to establish. Doesn't he have the slightest bit of gratitude for the old man?

When he feels Alisa's hand on his shoulder, he flinches, not used to her touch. But, through her almost mangled state, she smiles. "Tetsu-chan isn't like this. You and I both know that though he can be a little troublemaker, he would never hurt me unless something was up."

"Then what do you think was _up_ , Alisa?"

She sighs and pulls herself into a sitting position. When Daishou tries to reprimand her, she shushes him. "For what it's worth, I don't think he's a bad person, even if he _did_ leave me injured."

He was feeling a little impatient now. "What is the point you're trying to prove here?"

"I live near the hotel Kuroo gets his food from."

Daishou cranes his neck. "What do you mean? Don't we get all the food we need here? And Nekomata-san already has a guy to get all the food we need, and it isn't Kuroo."

"Suguru." This catches his attention. Alisa only ever addressed him as Daishou. "Tetsu-chan doesn't get his food from Nekomata-san because he thinks that Anteiku already feeds so many mouths. That's why he always meets up with a CCG Investigator every week at a hotel so he can get his nutrition. That's also the reason why he's always stirring up trouble. Getting human meat anywhere in Tokyo can never go unsurveillanced regardless of who you are or where you get it. He probably got used to being tracked down all the time, but there was one time I heard them talking." 

The revelation comes as a shock to Daishou. All this time, he thought Kuroo was a self-centered bastard...Still, it doesn't justify what he did to Alisa. "So what happened?"

"Well, he regularly meets with a woman. But a few weeks ago, when I was on the way home from a late shift, I happened to pass by the hotel, since our apartment is just on the same block. Tetsu-chan has a habit of waiting for the meat broker outside the hotel before going in, so I always see the woman he's with, even when I get off early. Our unit has a view of the street and the hotel's entrance. But on that specific night, I saw him already with the woman, but they were arguing outside. I don't know what they were fighting about, but it seemed pretty serious." Alisa sighs, her eyes a looking a little far off. "Of course, I tried to listen in on their conversation, since they were arguing pretty loud. From the slur in the woman's voice, she was probably drunk. But the most I've heard without lingering too much in the area was something about her career. For whatever reason, he was trying to get her to quit being an investigator, which was strange. If that woman was no longer an investigator, where else would he get his food, right?"

"Alisa, I get that you're still recovering, but what does any of that have to do with anything? How does Kuroo having a quarrel with his broker lead to assaulting you?"

" _Listen_ , last night, I had the late shift again since Akaashi had to do some homework, remember? And you, oh hell, I don't know where you were. But it was the same routine. I had the late shift so I had to pass by the hotel at the same time Tetsu-chan has his transactions again. The woman wasn't there anymore. Instead, it was a man that wore all black. I couldn't really tell what he looked like, but I know that something unnerved the hell out of me when I saw him. Whatever I felt, Tetsu-chan probably didn't feel, but they did their business outside the hotel instead of inside, 'cause...you probably get it right?"

Daishou did. Kuroo was probably involved with the female investigator in more ways than just the food exchange. But what the hell did that guy do or give him to make Kuroo go nuts the next morning? He asks Alisa this, but she shakes her head.

"I don't really know the answer to that, Daishou. But that was the only time the man was there, and look what happened." She gestures to herself.

"I...think we should tell Nekomata-san."

"Yeah," Alisa says rather wistfully before lying down again. "We should."

 

* * *

 

You immediately know you're dreaming when you wake up in your bed in Hokkaido. It was freezing even if you had a blanket on, but you're still used to the cold, even after living for years in Tokyo. You gaze at yourself in the mirror—you're five years old and wearing your elephant pajamas. You touch your face with your small fingers in disbelief, but the voice of your mother calling out from downstairs tears away your attention.

"(Name)! Breakfast!" 

You take your time observing every detail of your old house. What you missed the most were your mother's paintings. She was an amazing artist that chose to take care of you instead of pursuing her dreams to become worldly renowned. Your favorite painting is the one she did of a black panther she saw while she travelled to India. It hung on the wall just before the stairs began. The panther was in a position that suggested that it was ready to pounce with eyes shining in the dark, under the pale moonlight that shone on the jungle. Some of your other relatives found it a little frightening, but you always found it amazing, how she captured the moment before the beast jumped on their adventure group. 

"You should be careful, you know?"

You jump when Kuroo's friend, Kenma, materializes out of nowhere. He's still wearing that red jersey, and—what the hell is he doing here?

He turns to face you, amber eyes looking indifferent as usual. "You're trusting him too much already."

You want to ask him what he's talking about, but when you try to speak, no sound comes out of your mouth. He seems to read the question in your eyes, though. 

"Kuro's heart is good, but those kinds of hearts are the devil's favorite."

"(Name)?" Your mother appears from the kitchen. "There you are!"

When you look back at Kenma, he's gone. Instead, it's your father standing there. He looks as though he's just gone outside. It must be winter, since he's all wrapped up in his fur-trimmed jacket and winter boots. You remember this time in your life. Your father wasn't a lunatic yet. He acknowledges you with a warm smile—a genuine one—before taking off his boots and going upstairs. Your mother comes near you and strokes your hair tenderly. God, you missed her. 

"Sweetie, you have to promise me something." She takes your face in both of her hands.

Still unable to speak, you just cock your head to the side. 

"You have to save him."

Then, your eyes open. 

You try to rationalize your surroundings, and you're in your hotel room at the Hyatt. At your left, Kuroo is talking to someone you don't recognize, but you can't listen in on their conversation. Your head still hurts. However, he notices that you're awake and quickly rushes to your side.

"Hey, kitten, you good?"

The nickname warms your heart more than it should. You haul yourself upright with your elbows, trying to get rid of the dizziness. "How long was I out?"

"Around two hours. It's only nine in the evening." 

"Oh...wait, don't you have a class tonight?"

He looks at you in disbelief. "I can skip one class. You passed out on my watch. My responsibility."

"I'm my own responsibility."

"Um, sir, is there anything else I can help you with?" The man Kuroo was talking to earlier turned out to be one of the hotel staff. Kuroo briefly thanks him and he exits the room. When that's over with, he sits at the foot of your bed. 

"What happened?" you ask him. 

"Someone spiked your tea," he answers immediately.

"What?"

"You heard right. Probably caused you to pass out. That's just bullshit. Your dad sends you here where you're in even more danger?"

You rack your brain trying to remember what happened before you passed out. Kuroo was eating human meat that you still managed to taste because of some stupid bond or whatever, which more or less caused you to go in silent hysteria. But yeah, that tea did taste a little funny. 

Kuroo sighs. "I called Nekomata-san and told him about all of this. If you're up for the offer, we have a spare room at Anteiku. It used to belong to...Never mind that. You're welcome to stay with us. We'll always keep watch." 

You actually consider the offer for a moment. If you were to stay at Anteiku, not only are you surrounded by people you like, but you're also granted full protection. But...

"I'll have to decline that kind offer, Kuroo," you say with a half-hearted smile. 

"What? Why? It's not safe here, (Name). Whoever your dad is hunting probably already knows you're here." 

"Then, let him come at me. I can't risk your lives, too, you know?" 

It's like you said the stupidest thing you could possibly say, when Kuroo stares you down. But he probably knows that there's no convincing you out of this, so he just sighs in disbelief. 

"Well, I have to go. Nekomata-san is still quite mad at me. He's given me a curfew of 10 PM, yeesh. But, if anything comes up, call me immediately, okay?"

"Yeah, yeah. Go relax. Don't mind me, okay?"

He does something you thought  you'd never be on the receiving end of again, once you found out about him and Kumara-sensei. He pulls you into a tight but gentle embrace. He still smells _so_ good—

"Good night," he says after pulling away. 

Trying not to sound disappointed, you say, "Good night," in return. 

And that's the end of it. He doesn't hesitate when he walks out of the hotel room; doesn't give you a second glance; doesn't flash you another quirky smile. That's the moment when you realize how you truly feel about him. And it sucks. Terribly. To distract you from it, you think about the dream you had. You only recall fragments of it, but your mother's message was as clear as crystal.

_"You have to save him."_

You whisper to yourself, "But who do I have to save?"

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These are getting shorter and shorter every time I update, god. When I started this I told myself that each chapter needs to at least have 8k words. But we've chopped it down to 3k LMAO. But anyway, even in my absence, this fic was still getting hits and kudos and, hell, even comments!! It means so much to me whenever you guys just type in however you feel about my writing and I swear it keeps me going with my work. Even though you think I don't see them, I really do and it's heartwarming to know that people still read my stuff even if it's pending for an update. So, expect sporadic updates from me folks. Keep em comments coming cos I really love the insight you guys put into this big old word vomit fic. All the love!!~


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! Here's another update! I'm sorry it took me another month, but hey at least it's sooner than usual ehehe. ALSO! I've updated a certain conversation in Chapter 2, in which Kuroo and Reader talk about where Anteiku is. Back then, I was trying to research about Nekoma's location, and it wasn't on the Wiki or anywhere else, so I just decided it's in Shinjuku, the 4th Ward. But then I did my research AGAIN today, and it says that Nekoma is in the same place where Anteiku is located, at the 20th Ward, Nerima! Well, it's just a minor change and really doesn't affect the plot itself, but I did just want to clear out some confusion. I do really solid research about the stuff I write because I want things to actually make sense lol. Anyway, here it is!

You're quite used to spending your summer vacations alone. However, to be frank, you're always subjected to suffer a seemingly endless onslaught of boredom during its entirety. That's what pushed you to go out today. 

You've lived in Tokyo since you were nine years old, so you've already accustomed yourself to the absence of the fresh provincial breeze that Hokkaido engulfed you as a child. Summers in Tokyo are bleak and sweltering, and each year, the temperature seems to be getting worse and worse. You dressed lightly to fit the season, but the heat of the sidewalk is already seeping through the soles of your sneakers. It's ridiculous. You're only a few blocks away from the hotel, damn it. But at least you thought of bringing a hat and some sunglasses that don't make you seem like you're overdoing it. You don't really want to be mistaken for one of those Instagram girls having shoots in every "aesthetically pleasing" corner of the city. (You've seen some grunge looking chick having her picture taken in a dumpster one time. Tokyo high fashion is beyond you.) 

You don't really have a specific destination in mind. You just know that you can't spend your day holed up in your hotel room. But just when you're about to cross one of the many intersections in the city, you unknowingly bump into someone walking towards the opposite direction pretty hard. With a click of your tongue, you give whoever it was the stink-eye, but the stark white highlights in his hair look a little familiar.

"Oh, hey. Sorry. I didn't see you there," chirps the familiar stranger, as he scratches the back of his head in a sincere enough apology. 

"Bokuto-san, you should be more careful," adds Akaashi, who was right next to him—wait a minute.

"Akaashi?" you crane your head slightly in bewilderment. This is the first time you've bumped into him in the streets. 

He seems to not have noticed that it was you at first either, which explains the surprise on his face. Well, as surprised as stoic Akaashi can get, anyway. "Hello, (Name)-san. I didn't see you, pardon me. How are you?"

Damn Akaashi. Always so formal. His tone and that weird guy next to him causes you to become a little sheepish with your next words. "O-Oh, I'm good. I'm good. Kuroo helped me check in last night. Is he, uh, doing fine?" 

The way he sighs offers you enough of an answer, but he articulates anyway. "Kuroo-san is a little out of it, so to speak. Even his regular customers have taken notice. He and Haiba-san are not on speaking terms just yet, but Daishou-san chats him up from time to time. It's some strange behavior coming from him, actually."

"Oho?" The weird guy Akaashi is with interrupts. "Akaashi, does she work in that café, too? Man, I haven't been there in forever! But it's pretty much rival territory, so—"

"Bokuto-san," Akaashi calls him out a look that teases the boundary between respect and assertiveness. Bokuto pouts, but drops it, regardless.

"I'm Bokuto Koutarou, by the way!" He suddenly thrusts out his hand in front of you with a grin. "Nice to meet you, (Name)!"

You don't take his hand immediately because you keep trying to repeat his name in your head. Bokuto, Bokuto, _Bokuto_. 

"You're that noisy kid from Class 2-B!" You yell out without actually meaning to. 

Bokuto eyes you oddly for a minute before the gears presumably turn in his head. "Aren't you that kid that threw up in the track field during the try-outs in first year?" He laughs, upon further scrutinizing, which was relatively easy, since he's probably six flat. Whoa, you only notice now that his eyes are _golden_. "You _are_ her, aren't you?"

"U-Uh..." You're quite torn with what to focus on—that one embarrassing moment you had in Fukurodani's track tryouts or the fact that this guy seems oblivious to the fact that he's invading personal space. Man, he's just like Kuroo. 

"Bokuto-san, we're going to be late," Akaashi reminds his friend. 

Snapping out of your nervousness, you notice that the duo have a couple of gym bags slung across their shoulders and are both wearing dri-fit Fukurodani Volleyball Club shirts. Oh, right. Kuroo did tell you about the Interhigh. They must be on their way for training. 

Bokuto depletes at his companion's remark. "Well, you're quite right, Akaashi." He turns to you. "So, I'll see you around...? Uh, what's your name again?"

"You literally just greeted me with my name earlier and you forgot?" You snort. 

Bokuto laughs nervously. "Well, yeah, I'm not good with names. I remember people by the stuff they do. So, I'll see you around...?"

You roll your eyes. "It's (Name)."

"(Name). Right. Gotcha," he grins and he just looks so strange yet adorable at the same time. He must be a real charmer, especially since he's a volleyball player. 

Akaashi nods his head as farewell, probably trying to avoid another long, awkward exchange and drags Bokuto by the arm. As they went on their way, you vaguely hear Bokuto's words ("You've got a lot of cute friends, don't you, Akaashi?") slowly blend into the indistinct chatter and the blaring traffic. You shrug it off. There's no harm in getting a few compliments. At least you made a new friend, no matter how weird he is at conversations. With a light exhale, you walk off to where the day will take you. 

 

* * *

 

Akaashi's daily routine is as anyone probably expects his routine to be—followed strictly, unless there's some major occurrence taking place that completely tilts the balance that he's long set for himself. In fact, he's so consistent with his day-to-day patterns, he's managed to influence Bokuto to do the same. But, of course, there are always extraneous variables to the equation of his daily routine. Though he's a person that most people expect to be the last person to lose his mind over anything, he finds the irregularities in the pattern he's established quite annoying. Today, his morning went a little like this:

 

_**6:25 AM: Wake up** _

His room in Anteiku's second floor is just right, he thinks, as he stares up at the beige ceiling. His eyes shift every few seconds to various articles of furniture in the room: the Persian vase he brought from his old home, the study table with books neatly lined up on the corner, the television set that Lev probably uses more than he does whenever the behemoth manages to sneak into his room, the lampshade at his peripheral vision that he seems to have forgotten to turn off— 

"Damn it," he mutters. An irregularity in his routine so early in the morning. He makes a mental note not to forget to turn off the light before he sleeps tonight.

 

**_6:30 AM: Get up and make your bed_ **

Akaashi hauls himself onto his feet and the wooden floors creak under his weight. Ignoring the building's signs of age, he fluffs his pillows and stack them on top of each other. After, he neatly tucks the ends of his comforter under the mattress. Once he's satisfied with the way his bed looks, he proceeds to grab a towel and some of his running clothes from a closet and promptly heads to the bathroom at the common room. 

 

_**6:35 AM: Shower and do morning rituals** _

A perplexed tsk resonates in the walls of the pretty cramped shower. The bar of soap that Akaashi placed on the holder yesterday is covered in a few short hairs that he knows aren't his, and aren't from the scalp of anyone else he knows uses the common room shower. But a sigh of defeat escapes him, as he rinses off the hair off the soap. No matter how many times he addresses Kuroo's and Daishou's sloppy way of living, they'll only nod after his sermon and proceed to do the same infuriating things he just told them off about. 

Upon rinsing off the suds on his body, he wraps the fluffy towel around his waist and brushes his teeth. The toothpaste seems to be running low, too. Akaashi makes another mental note to drop by the convenience store later to get some more, even if it's Daishou's turn to grab some toothpaste. He casts a glance to the abundance of skin care products that he's sure the two boys won't lay their nasty hands on. "Skin care is for girls," Kuroo once said. But Akaashi doesn't particularly care, since he's be more than happy to mock Kuroo every time a pimple materializes on his so-called perfect face. 

He puts on his running clothes, consisting of an old school shirt from middle school, and slightly loose shorts. After slicking his wet hair back with a card of his fingers, he tosses his pajamas to the hamper at the corner and exits.

 

_**6:50 AM: Greet Nekomata-san and grab his newspaper from the front door** _

Whenever some of his friends at Fukurodani learned about where he lives, they're quite shocked at the reveal that he's under the care of the rival school's volleyball coach. But the competition ends whenever Akaashi steps inside Anteiku. Nekomata Yasufumi is more than just a volleyball coach at Nekoma. He's also practically the foster father of many ghouls that have nowhere else to go, himself included. His kindness extends to everyone, regardless of their intentions. Akaashi is just one of the lucky ones that got picked off the streets when the CCG tracked down his parents, which led to their utterly demise. For some reason, CCG officers have a penchant for leaving ghoul children orphaned. Instead of killing them off with their parents, they let the children go. If it's some law of theirs, or some cruel gift of a second shot at life, Akaashi doesn't really know. 

"Good morning, Keiji," the old man greets as he comes from the staffroom. Nekomata-san is already brewing his first batch of coffee and whipping up today's breakfast. (From the smell, Nekomata-san seems to be frying human liver.) "You going on a run?"

He nods politely before fetching today's rolled up newspaper by the doormat outside. Akaashi undoes the rubber band and reads today's headline. 

 

 _ **THE YOKAI STRIKES AGAIN!**_  
  
At around eleven in the evening of the previous night, the body of the late, Sugimoto Ayako, six year-old daughter of renowned investigator, Sugimoto Sendai, was found mangled in an alley near the investigator’s home in Harajuku. The corpse was no longer recognizable at the first glance. However, after a few tests, and the discovery of a gold pendant that belonged to the victim in a nearby trash bin, the body's identity has been confirmed. The culprit of the gruesome crime is thought to be the work of the SS-rated ghoul, Yokai. Read more on Page 5. 

 

With a wary sigh, Akaashi gets back inside to hand the paper to Nekomata-san, who takes notice of the headline quickly, too. The older man reacts the same way he does, but doesn't comment on it. While Nekomata-san puts his breakfast on a plate, Akaashi goes back inside the staffroom to fetch his running shoes. As he ties the laces, he wonders why there are ghouls out there who still prefer murdering human beings. That's the exact reason why their kind can't live peacefully out in the open. If he's so hungry, he can always go to a hospital with fresh corpses. In Akaashi's own, personal experience, there's little to no difference between fresh meat from a living human and the flesh of one that's just died in the previous hour. 

 _You have to admit, it tastes like heaven when it's fresh from the source_ , a voice at the back of his mind tells him. 

 _Shut up_ , he tells it back.

 

_**7:00 AM: Run around a few blocks for forty-five minutes everyday** _

The sky seems quite clear today without any clouds in sight. It's only about seven in the morning, yet the breeze seems quite warm, and the sun seems like it's glaring at him. Akaashi doesn't really mind running in any kind of weather, since a ghoul's immune system works differently than that of a human's. But the weather he dislikes most is a too-clear, too-sunny day. Kuroo has called him weird for being that way, but even if he's a volleyball player, Akaashi doesn't like being sweaty for longer than he has to be. The presence of the sun and the absence of clouds only makes him sweat faster during his morning runs, and it doesn't really cater to his temperance.

However, something catches his eye when he rounds a corner street. His strides halt for a minute, as he eyes a familiar, messy-haired figure walk inside the Nerima branch of the CCG. It's a gray, five-storey building that Akaashi happens to pass everyday during his runs, but chooses not to pay attention to most of the time. Every time he spares it a glance, he always bears witness to something unsightly. The last time he gazed upon the bleak, old building, a couple of investigators were hauling in bodies of ghoul murder victims for further investigation. Now, he sees Kuroo, who normally gets out of bed at eleven in the morning during summer vacation, walking into the place like he's forgotten he's their prey.

Akaashi clicks his tongue. He's presented with yet another aberration in his schedule. The better part of him tells him to go inside and check what his friend was up to, but the more rational side to his persona reminds him that if he does that he'll be walking into a death trap. When he glances at his watch and notices that he only has twenty more minutes into his daily jog, and hasn't burned enough calories yet, he turns into the opposite direction and starts running again. Maybe it was just some other tall, bedheaded teenager who walked into the building. Maybe Kuroo's still sound asleep in his room at Anteiku. Maybe it was just pure chance that the person who walked inside just happened to wear Nekoma #1's volleyball jersey, too.

 

**_7:45 AM: Eat breakfast_ **

When he gets back to Anteiku, he discovers that Daishou is awake earlier than usual, and that he, Alisa, and Nekomata-san are in deep conversation. "That's why we should keep a closer eye on— Akaashi? You're home early."

He bows his head in acknowledgement. "I always get back at this time. What are you talking about?"

Alisa suddenly cuts in on the conversation. "And that's why we should keep an eye on those imported coffee beans! The customers expect high quality coffee! Not just regular convenience store drinks. We run a café, not a soup kitchen."

It takes Daishou a few minutes to get it, and he shows Alisa that 'what the hell are you talking about' face. But when he catches on, he puts on a pretty convincing tone. "Alisa, do you really think our customers give a crap about the quality of what we serve them? Half our market is made up of students who can't afford fancy coffee beans. Cut 'em some slack," retorts Daishou as he helps himself to whatever Nekomata-san was frying earlier. The food crunches in his teeth, and it reminds Akaashi of the fact that the last time he's fed was about three days ago.

"Keiji, you're back," Nekomata-san acknowledges, while the other two continue their supposed banter. He grabs a plate from the bar and hands it to him. Freshly sliced hamstrings with a side of fried human skin. He turns to the old man and gives his gratitude.

"I know you like the muscles raw, but the skin crispy," he winks before giving him a cup of coffee to match his breakfast. 

Akaashi takes a seat next to Daishou, who's still arguing with Alisa over the "practicality of powdered coffee" and digs in. In the midst of his meal, though, Daishou asks, "Nekomata-san have you seen Kuroo? That bastard told me he'd give me a ride to school."

Nekomata-san, who was just about to leave for Nekoma, himself, shook his head. "He said he was going to do the training regimen I made for him at around five in the morning earlier. And do you not take the train, Suguru?"

Daishou huffs. "Yeah, but going in a car is more convenient..."

Akaashi's brows furrow. Is he the only one who thinks that Kuroo has been acting strange for a while? To top it all off, he almost killed Alisa yesterday. Now, she's giving Daishou that snarky attitude like she wasn't on the brink of death only recently. Sometimes, ghoul regeneration still surprises him. 

"I'll be off," Nekomata-san announces when he exits the bar to retrieve the cap he hung on the coatrack. He's already dressed in his coach's uniform, which is a stark reminder that the Interhigh is almost upon them, and Akaashi is going to have to play against the team coached by the man that practically raised him. "Alisa, I called in a friend of mine to help you man the shop, since Suguru and Keiji have training, as well. Are you sure you don't want Lev around?"

Alisa waves his question away. "He needs your training now more than ever, Nekomata-san. I'll be fine. There aren't a lot of customers in the daytime anyway." 

Nekomata-san promptly says his goodbyes and exits the shop. When Akaashi finishes his meal, he washes his utensils in the staffroom, but he can still hear Alisa and Daishou talking in hushed tones at the bar. Akaashi can only make out a few words. Those being: teacher, investigator, and flesh. 

If he had more time to listen in on their conversation, he would, since they are obviously hiding something from him. But Akaashi doesn't really have any time to spare, so he goes up to his room to change into his uniform and retrieve his things. Deep down, he knows that the others would tell him about whatever they were discussing if it's really crucial. Besides, it isn't like Akaashi to meddle in someone else's affairs. It simply doesn't fit in his schedule.

 

**_8:30 AM: Meet Bokuto-san at the convenience store near Shinjuku station_ **

Akaashi gets off the train after a half-hour commute. The weird thing about Tokyo in the summer is that some students still go to school to tend to their extra-curricular activities instead of taking a break, like he is. After squeezing through the melee of commuters, he manages to get out of the station. He eyes their rendezvous point across the street, and sees Bokuto already munching on a pork bun inside. Akaashi sighs and walks over to the store when the traffic light turns green.

"Oi, Akaashi! Over here!" Bokuto yells out unnecessarily, attracting the stares of others inside the store. 

Akaashi tells him to be more quiet before sitting down next to him. It's quite strange, not having to wait for him for another five minutes. Bokuto is that friend who's always late, yet today he arrived earlier than Akaashi.

"Want a pork bun?" He offers, and Akaashi politely declines, saying he already ate (which isn't a lie this time). His captain shrugs. "Okay. Suit yourself."

He patiently waits for Bokuto to finish his meal. He's telling Akaashi about a weird cat he saw on the way here. Akaashi tries to listen, but the younger boy is too engrossed with thinking of how strange today is. There have been many inconsistencies in his schedule, and it's beginning to bother him. Instead of being glad that he didn't have to wait for Bokuto to arrive today, it kind of rouses the superstitious being inside of him. Akaashi has long believed that when there are things that do not go his way for the day, something bad is going to take place soon. 

"And it just looked at me with those weird eyes, y'know? It was scary." Bokuto shivers. He's about to tell more about this weird, unblinking cat, when his phone buzzes on the table. 

"Whoops, we gotta go," Bokuto announces, shoving his half-eaten pork bun into his gym bag. 

 

**_8:40 AM: Walk to school_ **

"Man, I don't like getting up in the morning," Bokuto says as he stifles a yawn. "Whose idea was it to have training at nine A.M. What a genius."

"Bokuto-san, it was your idea," Akaashi reminds him. "You said you didn't want to miss Gundam at noon." 

Bokuto turns to Akaashi and exclaims, "What? I said that?!"

He is about to insist that, yes, he did have summer practices scheduled for that specific reason, but then his captain bumps into another pedestrian on the street. 

"Oh, hey. Sorry. I didn't see you there," apologizes Bokuto. 

"Bokuto-san, you should be more careful," Akaashi rolls his eyes and gazes at the unlucky individual that crossed paths with his scatterbrain of a captain, but then realizes it's you. 

"Akaashi?" You address him quite formally. 

"Hello, (Name)-san. I didn't see you, pardon me. How are you?"

You fumble with your words a little. "O-Oh, I'm good. I'm good. Kuroo helped me check in last night. Is he, uh, doing fine?" 

Kuroo. Akaashi suddenly recalls seeing him entering the CCG Headquarters in Nerima, but brushes away the thought. Instead, he focuses on you. Whenever Akaashi sees at you, he remembers the way that Kuroo looks at you with subtle interest every time you're in the café. Ever since the first time he's brought you to Anteiku, Akaashi already knew something was up from the start. Kuroo is a charismatic minx, who always grabs the attention of every female in the vicinity, but he never ever brings anyone to the café on his own accord.

But then, he remembers that you asked him a question. With a sigh, he replies, "Kuroo-san is a little out of it, so to speak. Even his regular customers have taken notice. He and Haiba-san are not on speaking terms just yet, but Daishou-san chats him up from time to time. It's some strange behavior coming from him, actually."

"Oho?" Bokuto joins in. "Akaashi, does she work in that café, too? Man, I haven't been there in forever! But it's pretty much rival territory, so—"

"Bokuto-san," Akaashi makes sure he's assertive, but still respectful. Though this boy is quite a handful, he's still his senpai. 

He pouts at him, like he always does whenever Akaashi reprimands him. But Bokuto is quite good at reading situations, so he changes the topic by introducing himself to you. 

"I'm Bokuto Koutarou, by the way!" He thrusts out a hand in front of you quite enthusiastically. "Nice to meet you, (Name)!"

Even if he spends most of his time with Bokuto, Akaashi still wonders where his energy spouts from. Bokuto Koutarou is like a fountain of excitement. He's always weirdly optimistic with everything he encounters, especially when he meets new people. Most people are uncomfortable with his approach, but you reply in a way Akaashi doesn't expect.

"You're that noisy kid from Class 2-B!" you accuse. 

He tries to piece together what you mean, but then Akaashi remembers Kuroo mentioning that you used to study at Fukurodani before transferring to Nekoma. Well, even to him, you did look quite familiar when he first met you. Huh. Small world.

Bokuto takes a while to recognize you, too. But when he does, he practically glowers at you. "Aren't you that kid that threw up in the track field during the try-outs in first year? You _are_ her, aren't you?"

As he watches Bokuto invade your personal space, his watch buzzes to remind him that he needs to be at school before 9 A.M, and, shit, it's already 8:55. 

"Bokuto-san, we're going to be late," he reminds his captain.

"Well, you're quite right, Akaashi." He turns to you. "So, I'll see you around...? Uh, what's your name again?"

"You literally just greeted me with my name earlier and you forgot?" 

"Well, yeah, I'm not good with names. I remember people by the stuff they do. So, I'll see you around...?" 

Wow, that was really lame. He forgot her name already? Bokuto really is an enigma of a person. However, when Akaashi pays close attention to the way Bokuto's grin is wider than usual, his eyes more fascinated than they normally are, he realizes something and he should probably prevent it before it gets worse. 

You roll your eyes, oblivious to the older boy's intentions. "It's (Name)."

"(Name). Right. Gotcha,"

Akaashi nods at you and grabs Bokuto by the arm and blatantly goes on their way. Bokuto looks back at you for a while before shifting his gaze back to where he's walking. 

"You've got a lot of cute friends, don't you Akaashi?" He remarks. 

"You cannot like (Name)-san at any circumstance, Bokuto-san." That statement is quite presumptuous, but at least he's laid it on the table. Bokuto always goes for what he wants when he wants it when you don't chastise him about it. 

He huffs. "I just said she's cute. It's not like I like her or anything," Bokuto looks away, looking quite red in the cheeks. 

Akaashi exhales in relief. Maybe that's just it. He's not very sure about how Kuroo feels about you, but Akaashi is sure that he won't appreciate Bokuto ogling you the same way he is. Maybe this time, Akaashi has some time to spare to play matchmaker. However, he swears, if there's one more inconsistency in his routine, he's going to lose it.

 

_**9:00 A.M Go to practice** _

"Practice is cancelled?" Akaashi repeats what his coach said, dumbfounded.

"Yes. The gym was reserved by the cheerleading team earlier, and their request was prioritised, since their Interhigh is tomorrow, while ours is still a few days away."

He can hear Bokuto celebrating the fact that he can go back to eating his pork buns undisturbed. But all Akaashi can think of his how much the universe hates him right now. Stupid inconsistencies. 

 

* * *

 

 

After spending the day just walking around under the harsh sunlight, you take shelter in a manga café in Akihabara. (You note to yourself that walking the streets of Tokyo in this hour in the summer isn't the wisest way to spend your time.) The place itself is quite peaceful, in contrast to the blaring traffic outside. Soft city pop is playing in the speakers, as customers read and sip their drinks. The place seems full, but you don't really mind. The air conditioning is all you really need at the moment. 

But, out of courtesy, you order a boba drink and a donut, momentarily forgetting that all the tables are occupied. You scan the area if there are vacant seats. You don't really mind sharing. That's when you spot one at the near end of the room. A red-haired boy wearing a tattered shirt tucked in blue jeans was reading a Shonen Jump manga in the company of a cup of black coffee. There was a vacant seat just right across from him.

You walk up to him, and he seems to not have noticed your presence, since he has earphones on, but when you tap him on the shoulder, he gazes at you with sleepy looking eyes. 

"Can I help you?" He asks with earphones still on, making his voice a tad bit louder. The person sitting on the table next to him gives him a weird look before getting back to typing away on his laptop. 

You gesture to his earphones and he realizes he's being too loud. He takes one out and asks again.

"Do you mind sharing seats?" You ask politely.

He grins. "Not if it's with a pretty lady."

"You're too kind."

You place your tray on the table and take a seat right across from him. The stranger puts down the book he's reading and looks at you intensely. He's good-looking and dresses well, yes, but there's something quite predatory with his gaze, that doesn't fit with his sleepy outer appearance. You pretend you don't notice by checking your phone and eating your donut. But then, he speaks again. 

"Say, you look a little familiar," his voice sounds like velvet in your ears, but somehow you know he's trouble. "Have we met before?"

You decide to play along. "Hmm, I'm not sure. My family moves around a lot, so I do meet a lot of people along the way."

The corner of his lip perks up, before he takes another sip of his drink. "Well, I'm not actually from Tokyo, but the food here is _delicious._ Keeps me coming back."

"Yeah?" You give him a challenging look. "Then why just coffee?"

From all the time you've spent living here, you've always had a hard time distinguishing human beings from ghouls. Hell, it took you months to figure out that Kuroo was, in fact, a ghoul. They're pretty much masters of disguise. But this guy? He just wants you to _know_ what he is.

"I think I haven't introduced myself yet. I’m Satori Tendou," he holds out his hand—you don't take it. “But you can call me Yokai."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OKAY SOOOOO This was supposed to be posted earlier, but I did a fuck ton of research about locations in Tokyo, the wards, some review on some Tokyo Ghoul terminologies, since I'll be using them more in the future. All in all, the soulmate bond between Kuroo and the reader is quite minimal in this chapter, since the two of them don't interact at all here. I've been thinking that the bond should be the centre of this work, but I'm still experimenting on what I can do with this. A Tokyo Ghoul-Haikyuu crossover is already big itself, so throwing a weird taste-connected soulmate bond makes it more complicated than it already is. Phew. This is a really hard piece to write, and do know I'm actually spending a huge deal of time and effort to piece everything together. But OMG I'm so glad this story is almost reaching 2k hits and 200 kudos T^T I'm crying u guys I honestly didn't expect that kind of feedback from this. Originally, this was only supposed to be a two-part story, but then I decided to explore this premise even more. I hope you guys will stick with me along the way uwu. Thanks so much!
> 
> P.S If you're willing to beta read for me, do email me at fercyjacksen@gmail.com or send me a message on my [tumblr](https://defensedevils.tumblr.com). This monster fic really needs second opinions and I'll be glad to have a constant person to discuss my ideas with.

**Author's Note:**

> First and foremost, a few disclaimers:  
> Everyone knows this already but I don't own either Haikyuu or Tokyo Ghoul. Both franchises and any elements you may recognize within the text of this story are completely owned by Furudate Haruichi and Ishida Sui, respectively.


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